The Scarlet Age
by hairsprayheart
Summary: There was the Golden Age... and then there was the Scarlet Age. A little-known chapter of Narnia's history, this is the story of the years when there were five Kings and Queens. AU. Set during and after Prince Caspian; the Pevensies stay in Narnia.
1. Prologue

**The Scarlet Age**

A _Chronicles of Narnia_ Fanfiction

by hairsprayheart

Prologue

**AN: Hello, everyone! This is the beginning of my Narnian fanfic, **_**The Scarlet Age**_**. It is AU, and is the story of the years the Pevensie siblings rule over Narnia with Caspian. It will use both book- and movie-verse, but it will NOT be simply a summary (aren't there already too many of those out there?). This is just the prologue, so it's rather short. Since "Aslan" is Turkish for "lion", I made the name of Caspian's wife Turkish for "wife" – I was going to use Turkish for star, but "Yildiz" doesn't sound quite as nice. Anyway… hope you enjoy! Please don't hesitate to tell me what you think. Thanks!**

_The Castle of Cair Paravel, Narnia, 2329_

"Papa, tell me a story," the little boy pleaded. His long locks of fair hair bounced over his forehead as he climbed onto his father's lap.

"All right," the man said, his eyes sparkling in amusement. "But only a short one. It's already past your bed time."

His son nodded happily, though his eyelids were growing heavier by the second. He nuzzled into his father's chest, settling in for the tale. Even though he would be asleep soon, it was enough just to feel his father's warmth against him.

"There were once four monarchs that ruled over Narnia."

"You told me that story before, Papa," the boy mumbled, a sleepy protest.

"Hush, son," the father reprimanded gently. "It's not polite to interrupt."

"I'm sorry, Papa."

"Legend says that the four monarchs left Narnia for a second time after the Second Battle of Beruna in the year 2303. But, in fact, that was a legend only. They stayed for another three years. Those who remember call it the Age of Scarlet, for all of the blood that was shed in the name of Narnia, and of the Lion."

Soft, snorting breaths alerted the handsome storyteller to his son's drift into sleep. He chuckled softly, shaking his head. He had thought he would be able to get through at least another few sentences.

He deftly lifted the little boy into his strong arms, cradling him like a baby, though he was already quite grown for his age. He could still remember the day his son was born, like it was yesterday, even though it had been over four years ago. Watching his son grow made _him_ feel old; it was getting more difficult to ignore the wrinkles that crinkled the corners of his eyes and mouth, and the streaks of gray peppering the hair beneath his crown. In another few months, there would be a banquet to celebrate his fortieth birthday. Aslan help him.

He placed his son gently on the bed, drawing the covers over him and carefully smoothing them down over the hot little body. The boy stirred briefly, then was still. His father would not have expected the boy to deviate from this – their nightly, unconsciously-established routine.

The man smiled to himself, then leaned down and kissed his son's mop of hair. Of all of his adventures, this was the most difficult, and the hardest: parenthood.

"Sleep well, my little prince."

A floorboard creaked, and he turned around to see a woman standing in the doorway. She was in a simple, but still beautiful, white nightgown, and her fair hair, loosed from its bonds of court fashion, cascaded in waves down her back. It appeared as though she was almost glowing faintly in the darkness.

"Is Rilian asleep?" she asked in a whisper, taking a few steps into the room to meet her husband.

"Yes. I would not worry about waking him," the king said wryly.

"You have been telling him stories, Caspian." The woman knowingly smiled.

"Yes," Caspian said again, looking at his queen.

"I have heard that you tell excellent stories."

"Thank you."

Their tone was as formal and impersonal as their relationship was. Between the stresses of running a kingdom, the long years of trying to have a child, the cruel processes of aging, and the keeping of old secrets, it had slowly eroded over time from a marriage to a friendship to simply a partnership. They were still somewhat affectionate with each other; they could not imagine living without each other. But they were not as passionate about each other as they had once been. Their marriage was a product of twenty years of practiced smiles, exchanged glances, manufactured conversations, and chaste kisses to appease the people. It had never been spoken aloud that their marriage was different than it had once been, and the public was not aware of this fact. But neither of them could deny it. They served simply as dual caretakers of the kingdom, and of the son they both adored.

"I wish you would tell me those stories," the woman murmured, wistfully.

"I know." Caspian paused. "I have; a few of them. But I fear they would not interest you in the same way they do Rilian."

"At least _I_ would not drool on you while you spoke," his wife said, with a sad smile, as she wiped at a moist spot on his tunic.

"I like the drool," Caspian teased.

The woman shook her head ruefully, though she was smiling at him, more sincerely this time.

They again bid their son goodnight before they began to make their way down the long corridor to their bedroom. As requested, the guards and maids and various other serving-people and serving-creatures had all retired to their chambers, leaving the couple to walk to their room, alone together, in companionable silence.

Caspian shrugged out of his heavy court finery and dressed in a light linen shirt and pants. He washed his face in the cold water basin, lay his crown and sword and various adornments where they were accessible, blew out the flickering candles, and crawled into bed next to his wife. He had done the same thing for years, and would continue to do so for many more.

He turned to the queen, and she turned to him.

"Goodnight, Caspian."

"Goodnight, Karisi."

He rolled over onto his back and stared up at the high ceiling. It was always so difficult for him to fall asleep. Lately, this had been even more of a problem – he was growing tired more frequently during the day, and it would only get worse. Surely, he was not _so_ old; was it possible that the burdens of his past plagued and exhausted him still? Briefly, he ran over in his mind the tasks of that day, and what tasks he would have to complete the next. It seemed, sometimes, that he did the work of five.

Like he had for twenty years, he thought of the way his life had once been. He thought of the Kings and Queens of Old. He thought of the Scarlet Age.


	2. The Return

**The Scarlet Age**

A _Chronicles of Narnia_ Fanfiction

by hairsprayheart

Chapter One: The Return

Summary: There was the Golden Age... and there was the Scarlet Age. A little-known chapter of Narnia's history, this is the story of the years when there were five Kings and Queens. AU. Set during and after Prince Caspian; the Pevensies stay in Narnia.

* * *

AN: So, since this is just the first chapter, it's doubtful that it will be any good. But many thanks to my kind reviewers, unicorn_skydancer_08 and h e a r t. e r r a t i c! (To h e a r t: look what I found! The handy-dandy line!) Hope you enjoy. xo

* * *

_Somewhere between Aslan's How and Miraz's Castle, Narnia, 2303_

"So. That's the castle," said Susan, standing back and looking up at that the enormous stone building, then glancing back at Caspian.

"It is fantastic, is it not?" Caspian asked excitedly.

In truth, the castle was nothing special. It had been built long ago, and inside it was as dull and gray and unremarkable as it appeared outside. Nothing particularly pleasant had ever happened to him there, though a few particularly unpleasant things had. But it was familiar; it was home. And there would be a warm bed and some warm food waiting for him there.

Susan smiled at him tightly and nodded politely.

"Though," Caspian added hastily, sensing that she thought he was boasting, "I am sure it is nothing in comparison to Cair Paravel."

"I couldn't say," Susan replied, her voice growing melancholy. "I haven't seen it in many years. But what I remember of it was grand."

"I am sorry. I forgot that it was…" Caspian faltered for a moment, trailing off. _Not in use? In ruins? Obsolete? A symbol of the fact that you have been gone 1300 years?_ There was no right way to finish the sentence.

Susan turned away, and his own gaze returned to his feet. He toed the dirt anxiously, realizing he had said something wrong. He seemed to be doing everything wrong lately. For a moment, and for a moment only, he missed his sheltered childhood. Only now could he see how very sheltered it had been. …Wasn't Susan going to say anything?

"That's quite all right," she said finally, tossing her head flippantly. "Let's get on, shall we? The others are probably waiting for us."

Caspian agreed and followed, struggling to keep up with Susan's long stride. She was upset, he thought miserably, and trying to get rid of him. He lagged behind purposefully, letting her be by herself as she wished.

He could not quite understand why she was angry with him. After all, he had saved her, and quite handily, he thought, from the advancing Telmarine soldiers, and then gone on to help in the defeat of the rest of the Telmarine army. Though, of course, Aslan had helped too. But he had saved her life, after all! Perhaps, he thought more hopefully, she was just trying to think of how to thank him. He could not be sure. He had not spent much time around girls; maybe this was just how they were. Now that the battle was over, he hoped he would be able to find out.

On the long march from Aslan's How to the castle, he was getting to know the Kings and Queens of Old quite well. He was admittedly envious of their ease with the old Narnians; it had taken him painful weeks to earn the Animals' trust, and even longer to earn that of the creatures like the Minotaurs and Centaurs and Fauns and such. (He still doubted greatly he had any of the Dwarfs', particularly after the incident with Nikabrik.) But despite his jealousy, he admired them greatly. They were wise and cultured, and even better than all of the legends said. High King Peter's charismatic leadership, King Edmund's quiet strength and intelligence, Queen Lucy's bravery and adoration of all, Queen Susan's compassion and beauty… none could rival them. It was remarkable how they had adapted so well to Narnia's new nature, but he supposed that was just another of their fine qualities. And if you love something, you are always accepting of it, even when it changes.

He observed Susan's slowing gait with a critical eye. Was it possible that she was limping? If she was as sore as he was, she wouldn't let on. But surely it would be impolite to accept a proposal? He glanced to his left, where a Telmarine footsoldier who had already sworn his allegiance was leading a demure Destrier. He looked back at Queen Susan. Yes, she was definitely limping.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like to ride, Queen Susan?"

"Oh, no, I'm all right," she promised, barely sparing him a backwards glance. "It wouldn't be fair to the others."

Of course it wouldn't be. There was only one horse. (No one would dare ride a Centaur, or any of the Animals, for that matter.) But still.

In spite of himself, Caspian smiled sheepishly. He had been just about to request that she join him on Destrier. He had never walked this far, and he was exhausted. The ache in his shoulder had dulled to a pulsing throb, replaced by the overwhelming pain in his feet. But he supposed it would not do to look like a spoiled prince, even though that was what he truly was.

He forced himself to focus on other things. It was not too difficult. He was surrounded by many colorful creatures: dark and solemn Minotaurs, lumbering along like upright bulls; brownish and blonde fauns, prancing with the willowy dryads; and the many graceful and wonderful Animals. Though no one had been forced to follow him to the castle, they were all following anyway. In order to keep himself from getting a big head, he reminded himself that it was not him they were following, but Aslan. The Great Lion had honored them, particularly himself, by joining their little party. There were unspoken questions about why, but those who really needed to know, he was sure, would soon find out. Something about Aslan's demeanor calmed him, and he felt his pain diminishing as he watched the Lion walk with Lucy. He smiled to himself and looked down at his worn boots, feeling as though he had interrupted something sacred.

Far up ahead, he could hear a playful conversation between the two brothers Edmund and Peter.

"Looks great, Ed," Peter was saying. "You cleaned it up right fine."

From the glint, Caspian guessed that the younger king was showing off his sword.

"Swiped it off of a Telmarine. Might come in handy." Edmund held the sword up again, and cocked his head to inspect it. "Mm. You think so? I was hoping it might sparkle. And it seems a little small to me."

The two laughed.

"Nothing could compare to Rhindon, of course," Peter said, only half-teasingly, drawing the large broadsword to admire it in the glaring sunlight.

"Of course."

Embarrassed to have overheard the brotherly banter, Caspian tried to think of other things. But it was difficult, for his mind had wandered so frequently that it seemed to be running out of options. His mind kept returning to the four Pevensies. Why did they fascinate him so? He had never had siblings, or anything close to a sibling sort of relationship or even interaction. Any illusion he'd had of having a family, or even being loved at all, had been quite well eradicated by Miraz's multiple threats on his life. He wished he could join their little family, but they seemed quite content with each it as it was. Of course, they had been nothing but welcoming towards him, Queen Lucy in particular, but he could tell that they were for the most part somewhat wary of him. He sensed hesitation on their part to accept him. Whether this was because he was a Telmarine, or because he was going to be in charge soon, or they were still unsure if these changes in Narnia were real, he was not sure. But he could not blame them for their tentativeness. They, too, had to rebuild their lives now.

In that, the five of them were alike.

Had they felt like this, at first? Like they didn't belong? Even though humans had occupied Narnians for thousands of years, there was something mystical, almost god-like, about the siblings. They had lived in legend for generations, thanked in song, mourned in silence, praised in whispered stories. He could remember hearing about them more than hearing about his own father. And how fitting, that _they_ were to be the ones who made him king; who made him a _king_! The apprehension, the weight of this, had not quite hit him yet. He was still looking forward to the coronation, because it was something solid to hold onto. Even though the landscape around them hadn't changed in hours – the same flat green plain of waving grass, the occasional dark tree in the distance – there was a sense of perpetual change in the air. He could feel it and breathe it. Something unprecedented was about to happen, and he had no control over the how or the when or the why. This strange month had been one long spiral out of control. Somewhere, deep within him, he longed to feel some sense of solidity once more, some thought that he was not so helpless. And he had a feeling he knew where he could find this. There was only one place where he was comfortable, and the others weren't. Though this was demeaning, and cruel, the small spark of Telmarine felt this way. If he could have changed this, he would have. But he could not. He was a Telmarine, and he was to be King.

Caspian looked back at the castle lying before them, and kept walking.

* * *

_Still somewhere between Aslan's How and the Castle, Narnia, 2303_

Caspian wasn't sure what had urged him to keep on after so long, but the image of the castle on the horizon was unwavering, and his resolve became the same. He could not say how long he had walked; nor did he think it mattered. His thought process had dwindled before ceasing altogether. All of his energy was concentrated into willing his feet to take that one more step. There had been awoken in him some primal determination, a final push towards survival. (Survival, for the moment, lay in reaching the Holy Land – the stone fortress may as well have been Aslan's country, with all of his burning desire to reach it.) But even the firmest of instincts, he had learned, could be easily shaken.

He felt a sort of presence surrounding him and saw that a Lion was approaching. His ribbons of muscles gathered taut and released visibly beneath His golden coat, and Caspian was momentarily blinded by the beauty of the sight. He found that he was suddenly no longer tired. He was almost surprised when Aslan spoke, breaking him from his reflections.

"Prince Caspian."

"Aslan!" he cried, starting in quite an undignified way.

The Great Lion chuckled, and Caspian flushed.

"I'm sorry. You startled me," he mumbled, adding, "sir."

"Dear one, that was exactly what you may have hoped for."

Caspian frowned, confused.

"What I hoped for…?"

"You have spent your whole life being told that I was not real, have you not?"

"Well, not exactly," Caspian confessed. Though his question had not been answered, Aslan's warm voice and unassuming smile had calmed him, and he knew that he could trust the Lion. "There was my nurse; and my tutor, Professor Cornelius."

"And you believed, when they told you about Me?"

Caspian nodded mutely. It was all he _had _believed in. It seemed as though the Lion already knew the answers to his questions, but he still felt compelled to give them.

"You believed in Me, when you did not see Me?"

"Of course, Aslan."

"You will not always be able to see Me, Son of Adam."

"So I have heard," Caspian mused, more to himself. He had heard the Old Narnians, as well as Peter and his siblings, sometimes with anger and sometimes with sadness, telling stories about how Aslan had mysteriously disappeared on multiple occasions. Often, it was when they thought they needed Him most. The Kings and Queens had done the same. Caspian could not blame the Old Narnians for being a little bitter. Goodness knows they were rather incapable of leading themselves, if they had stayed in hiding for thirteen hundred years.

"But I will always be there," Aslan said.

Caspian was quiet. There had been times where the others had doubted it. Had doubted Him. Even his somewhat-new faith in Aslan had wavered a few times, especially after their unsuccessful attack on the castle. He would not forget almost being taken in by the White Witch. But he knew that there was no other way, other than some kind of divine intervention, that their group would have been able to defeat the Telmarine army.

"I know," he whispered, tacking on as an afterthought, "and I believe."

The Lion halted and sat on his haunches in front of Caspian, forcing him to stop as well. Though anyone else doing this would have been quite silly indeed, Aslan still looked regal and worthy of respect. He placed His giant and velvety paw on Caspian's shoulder. Despite the fact that the massive claws were retracted, Caspian felt his breath catch in his throat. It was not so much that he was frightened (though I can assure you he was), as he felt as though a great and wonderful burden were about to be placed upon him. The paw should have been heavy, and one clout would have killed Caspian on the spot, he knew, but it felt feathery light. Aslan looked deep into Caspian's eyes.

"May you believe in Me still, and also know Me."

Unable to say anything, Caspian nodded again. Aslan smiled and closed His eyes briefly before removing His paw. He straightened and began to pad forward, and Caspian followed, with the feeling that the Lion had more to say.

"Have you heard the tale of the White Witch, Son of Adam?"

"Yes," Caspian said eagerly. "And how she made it winter for a hundred years…"

"…And killed me on the Stone Table," Aslan finished, not looking back.

"Yes, and that," Caspian agreed weakly. He was not sure what else to say.

"It is nothing to be ashamed of," Aslan said. There was only the slightest hint of reproach in his voice. "It is not the death that is important. It is the life."

"Yes, sir."

"There is something you want to ask of Me."

It was not a question.

"Aslan, I don't understand," Caspian said meekly.

"What is it you do not understand?" Aslan asked, not unkindly.

"Why me?" he wondered. "Why was I chosen to be the next king of Narnia? Surely I do not deserve it…"

"Dear one," began the Lion, in a way that made Caspian know that what He was about to say was of grave importance, "how things have come to be is not for you to know; only that they _have_ come to be."

"Yes, Aslan."

"It matters not whether or not _why_ you will be king, only that you will be."

"Yes, Aslan."

"You are still not sure."

"No, Aslan," Caspian sighed. "It is just that everyone here seems so comfortable. For the first time, _I_ am the one out of place!"

Even as it left his mouth, he realized how stupid it sounded. It was at this, Aslan turned. Though He did not look angry (Caspian would have been able to tell, quite easily, if the Lion had been angry), He did not exactly seem pleased.

"The others are also uncomfortable, young prince. There has been much adjusting for them, as there shall also be for you," He said simply. "Do not forget that they have a new king, whose people have taken the homes of their families and the lives of their friends. They are adjusting," He repeated. "Perhaps they are just less inclined to complain."

Thus rebuked, Caspian was quiet.

"Do not be ashamed. Everyone makes mistakes," Aslan reassured him. "But you must be more careful of making them out loud, if you are to be as fine of a king as hoped."

Aslan's eyes danced with the hint of a smile, and Caspian knew he was forgiven.

"Thank you, Aslan," he said quietly, giving a small smile of his own. "I will try."

"I know," the Lion said, and Caspian had a feeling that He did, indeed.

With that, Aslan bounded away and ahead, gone as quickly as He had come, and Caspian was once again alone with his thoughts, however troubling.

* * *

_Closer to the Castle, Narnia, 2303_

It was a little later that day when the party had sat down to take in a brief lunch. They were close enough to the castle that they could have just gone on, but many were hungry, and if they hurried, they would still be there before nightfall.

Caspian had chosen not to eat, and was gazing absent-mindedly at the still-somewhat-distant castle when soft footfalls could be heard approaching him.

"Queen Lucy," he said respectfully.

"Hello," the girl greeted him, with a knowing smile. "You've had a talk with Aslan, haven't you?"

"What?" Caspian grinned, surprised. "How'd you know?"

"I can tell," Lucy said simply.

"Oh."

"Do you want some of this?" the young queen asked, waving a piece of wrapped meat. It was pavender, a common Narnian fish. An offering. It smelled absolutely heavenly, but Caspian resisted.

"No, thank you."

"We picked some up in Beaversdam. There's still plenty left for the others."

Dear little Lucy. She had guessed that he was resisting because he was worried about the others, he realized. He smiled at her and reached out his hand.

"If you're sure."

Lucy nodded, still smiling, and gave it to him.

"What is it, my queen?" he asked, beginning to laugh as he swallowed his first bite of the fish. She was staring at him intently.

"You must have been hungry," the girl observed sagely, though she was giggling. "You smiled when you tasted it."

"I am quite hungry," he admitted. "It has been some time since I had any real food."

The polite conversation was only a simple cover-up for the real issue at hand, and they both knew it, though they would not admit it. The young queen knew something that it was possible she was not supposed to know, that he did not want her to know – or maybe he did? He sensed that _she _sensed that something had happened during her exchange with Aslan, in the forest the day of the battle, with the others she had left behind. While Caspian ate, they were quiet for a long moment, with the only sound being Caspian's chewing, which he tried, unsuccessfully, to muffle. Lucy mercifully broke the silence.

"Caspian, can I ask you something?"

"Yes, of course," he replied, between bites. "Anything you'd like, your Majesty."

Lucy beamed, and looked at him with the utmost innocence.

"Do you like Su?"

Caspian paused thoughtfully. There must be a way to answer this with tact.

"Of course I do. Who could not?"

Exasperated, Lucy sighed. "I mean, do you _love _her?"

Oh. _Oh._

Caspian choked. "What?" he spluttered. "Queen Lucy, what…?"

"You do, you do!" Lucy crowed, triumphant, jumping up and down.

"That's outrageous," Caspian protested, struggling to regain his composure.

"No, it's not," she said seriously, calming down just as he did. "You're practically the same age, after all. And she is beautiful, and kind."

"That she is," Caspian agreed.

"So you do, then?"

"Do… what?"

"Love her!"

"Well…" Even if he did, why would he confide in her sister? She was sure to run off afterwards and _tell_. "I'm afraid it's a bit more complicated than that, your Majesty."

"Oh, please say you do," Lucy begged. "_She's_ sweet on _you_!"

Caspian flushed deeply.

"My queen," he stammered. "I—"

He highly doubted that Lucy was right. She was probably just trying to create excitement, like he supposed little girls sometimes did. Though, in all honesty, he knew very few (if any) little girls, and Lucy didn't seem like a typical one, if she could even be called little. And he had always heard that she was honest. And Susan had always been kind to him, even when the others hadn't. She'd even sided with him! Who was he kidding? The girl clearly knew what she was talking about.

"Do you really think so?" he asked, trying not to sound hopeful.

Lucy nodded heartily.

"Well…" he said again. "Then yes. I suppose I do… _like_ Queen Susan."

Maybe he did. He wasn't sure. The way he felt suddenly heated when he was around her, the way his heart beat more quickly… that would explain it, he would suppose. He had not been around a lot of girls. He might as well say so, though, if only to humor Lucy. She was a sweet girl, and she had been kind to him, too.

"Yes," he said, with more finality.

That was all right, wasn't it? Lucy had seemed happy enough about it. He hadn't thought about Peter and Edmund's reactions until this very moment. But he supposed it wouldn't really matter, since this would all be forgotten soon, anyway. He doubted Lucy would get that excited. But she _had _been quite insistent. And she _had _been watching him, been watching _them_, more importantly, for a while now. Oh, Aslan help him…

"Told you!" Lucy cried happily, throwing her arms around him. Caspian tensed, surprised by the contact, but relaxed after a moment. So this was what it was like to be hugged, he thought, grinning. "We're going to be family!"

"Hold on!" Caspian gasped. "Let's take it slow for now, all right?"

With any luck, nobody would find out. He still wasn't sure about his feelings, and he would be able to decide better of his own accord. Already he had the sinking feeling that it had been a mistake to tell Lucy, but she had been so happy to find out. They all needed some happiness, if only a little bit, after everything that had gone on recently. What with the return of Aslan and all, they were back on to be perfectly well.

"All right," Lucy reluctantly agreed.

"Wait, wait," he pled, as she released him. "You mustn't tell anyone. About any of this. Our secret, then, right?"

"Our secret," Lucy promised, though she looked slightly disappointed.

Then she ran off, probably to go tell Susan. And he wasn't sure, yet, if he minded.

* * *

_Miraz's Castle, Narnia, 2303_

"We're here! We're here!"

Caspian didn't care at this point if he looked like a fool. He was absolutely exhausted. He would have given his life for a hot bath and the chance to take off his shoes and put his feet up. As long as he could get the hot bath and rest before he died.

For a long time, he had not thought he would ever be able to return here. At least, not unless he was bound in a sack and about to be punished for high treason. He hadn't thought he would come here by his own choice, that was. And yet here he was.

Their party stopped short in front of the drawbridge that led into the castle. Caspian looked around at their weary, despairing faces, having to turn away. This was the place where many of their number had died. And he had been aching to return to it. Ashamed, he went silent. He searched the crowd for a sign of Aslan, but the Lion had vanished. He couldn't even find the Kings and Queens. He was on his own with these creatures that were still coming to trust him.

"Narnians," he called. "I know this is the site of a great tragedy. It is a symbol of Telmarine oppression and greed and hatred. But no longer! This castle belongs to you – to the Narnians." He paused for a moment, to gather his thoughts and make sure he hadn't said the wrong thing. "For Narnia, and for Aslan!"

A few weak cheers went up from the crowd, but the majority was solemn and still. Caspian licked his lips nervously.

To his relief, he saw Glenstorm raise a fist. "For Narnia!" he bellowed.

The Animals looked to their leader. It appeared as though they remained skeptical. After all, it had been one thing to have a Telmarine lead them into battle (and he had only done that twice; only once successfully). It was entirely another to have that same Telmarine lead them in all the other aspects of their lives. They had not forgotten the rhymes of old, nor had they forgotten all other parts of the Golden Age. But those leaders had abandoned them, and who was to say that they wouldn't again? Who was to say that _Caspian_ wouldn't?

But if Glenstorm, who had lost one son in the first battle, could accept this new leader, then perhaps so could they. After a moment's hesitation, morale seemed to spread.

"And for Aslan!" they echoed.

Relieved, Caspian melted back into the crowd. He was about to mount Destrier when he felt a tug on his boot.

"If I may, sire…" Reepicheep began, as respectful as always.

Caspian smiled. His good friend Reepicheep was a fierce fighter and loyal to the cause of Narnia. The Mouse was one of few he felt he could truly rely upon.

"Yes, good Mouse?"

"Well, my liege, I believe that not all of us would feel comfortable staying with you, in the castle, as of yet," he said tactfully.

"I understand completely," Caspian responded, with an inward sigh. "Are you one of those, sir?"

"Well," Reepicheep said, flustered at the somewhat-unusual request for his own opinion, "I go wherever you shall, sire."

With that, the Mouse bowed low.

"Climb aboard, friend," Caspian offered, reaching down to let Reepicheep scurry into his hand and up his arm so that he could have a safer and more comfortable passage into the castle.

"If it would please you, I should prefer to remain with my men for the present," said the Mouse. "We will meet you inside."

"As you wish," Caspian said. He swung up into Destrier's saddle, and began to lead the people that were now _his_ into the castle.

* * *

_The forest outside of Miraz's castle, Narnia, 2303_

"Aslan!" Lucy cried, running to greet the Lion where He stood within the little grove of trees just ahead.

"Hello, dear ones," Aslan purred, accepting Lucy's embrace with a warm smile.

The other three siblings knelt briefly before joining their younger sister at Aslan's side.

"So, what did you want to talk to us about, Aslan?" Susan asked, somewhat nervously.

"We got your message," Peter noted.

The hour before, a Dryad (presumably one from these very trees), had requested their presence here. They had anxiously wondered why and had been barely able to contain themselves until the moment they arrived here, directed by leaves floating on the breeze. Though they regretted missing Caspian's return home, they would be back in enough time for his coronation the next morning.

"I suppose you are wondering why you have been called back to Narnia," Aslan said, looking at them each lovingly and straight in the face in turn.

"Oh, we're not complaining, sir," Edmund said as he was addressed, with all of the solemnity he could muster at a time such as this.

Aslan chuckled lightly before becoming grave again.

"Though you may think the fight is over, in truth, the battle is just beginning," He told them. "It will take all of you to set Narnia right again."

Somberly, the children nodded. They had paled considerably, but stood firm before the Great Lion.

"Dear ones, a great and serious task lies before you. Use well the gifts that I have given you, and know that I am with you always."

"Oh, Aslan, you're not leaving again so soon, are you?" Lucy cried.

"I am afraid My journeys are not for you to know, sweet Lucy," said He, smiling in a way that was both mournful and beautiful. "Only your own."

"Yes, Aslan," she said quietly. "Thank you."

"Aslan," Susan began, before falling silent and biting her lip apprehensively.

"Speak," Aslan commanded, "for I am listening."

"Are we going to have to leave soon?" Susan whispered, so that Aslan alone could hear her.

"Fear nothing, dear heart. You will not leave until you are ready."

Relieved, Susan slumped over onto Aslan in a limp embrace and kissed His head.

"Thank you, Aslan."

It had been torture leaving Narnia once; knowing that she would have to do it again, and so soon, had been frightening. Her fears eased, she was not surprised when Aslan turned and vanished into the forest.

A whispering breeze was the last they knew of Him: "_Know that I am with you always_." And then they were alone among the trees in the dusk.

* * *

_Outside Miraz's Castle, Narnia, 2303_

"I don't know, it just feels wrong walking into a castle all mussed up this way," Susan was saying. "Especially one that isn't ours."

Peter was just about to comment on how dearly he missed Cair Paravel when Lucy piped up, "Why do you care?"

She hadn't meant to seem cruel, only funny, but it appeared as though no one else got the joke, for, as he did only rarely, Peter gave her a stern look, and Susan flushed crimson. Only Ed appeared mildly amused, though he was quick to hide it with an overly-serious face that made Lucy giggle all the harder, to Peter's great frustration.

"I've always been the one of us who keeps up appearances for all of the others," Susan defended herself indignantly. "If it weren't for me, Edmund would have the worst table manners in all of Narnia, and you'd probably be running around naked in the forest like a common dryad."

"You know very well dryads are decent," Lucy pouted, quite deeply offended. Ed, less upset, looked to his older brother for help.

"Now, girls, there's no reason to fight. Apologize, both of you," Peter demanded.

He was using his _king_ voice. Oh, how they hated it sometimes when they used his king voice. For it was one that they didn't dare disobey. Even if they were equal as siblings, even if they were equal as leaders, they must never forget that he was the High King. Technically, he was in charge of them – more importantly as a brother than a royal, though of course it didn't hurt.

"I am sorry," Lucy said sincerely. "I was only making a joke."

Susan raised her chin a notch.

"A joke, oh? And of what, pray tell?"

"You know perfectly well," Lucy retorted.

"Do speak up, Lu," Edmund complained. "The rest of us want to know, too."

"I don't know what she's talking about," Susan insisted, miffed.

"Probably just making up a story for fun, weren't you, Lu?" Peter encouraged, in a voice that suggested she had better agree. "Bad form, Susan. Now let it go. We'll be inside in just another moment."

Susan rolled her eyes and tossed her head, glad to be done with the whole incident, and didn't miss the chance to scowl at Lucy as the siblings crossed over the drawbridge into the castle courtyard.

"We mustn't go on like this," Peter said, with less conviction than before. "Remember what Aslan said."

Lucy was lost deep in thought about the words of others: Aslan, Peter, Susan, Caspian. She did not realize that words were no longer being spoken.

The others had fallen silent. The dark courtyard evoked more than a few painful memories of a night not so long ago. Lucy was the only one unaffected as they passed through the gate, for all Peter could see was a closed one with all of his comrades, his _people_, trapped inside, doomed. Susan hesitated before entering, remembering the crashing gate and the hope that fell with it. Edmund closed his eyes and ducked his head. He had not fought in the same way that Peter or even Susan had, because he had served primarily as a signaler for the rest of the troops, but it had almost been he left behind. Though the air was clean and the scent of a roast wafted upon it, Peter suddenly became nauseous and fell to his knees on the front steps. His head swam and he had to fight to keep from retching.

"Peter!" Lucy cried. "Are you all right?"

Overcome, Peter burst into tears.

"That's just it," he sobbed. "I'm perfectly all right."

"I-I don't understand," Lucy whispered helplessly.

Susan was as white as a sheet, but Edmund remained perfectly stoic.

"Come on, Lu," he said quietly. He took her arm. "Let's get on. The others'll be along shortly."

"No," Lucy said sharply, wrenching away with more force than Edmund had realized she possessed. "I want to know what happened. Please tell me the truth."

"It doesn't matter," Susan said coldly. "Stop being childish."

"No!" Lucy shrieked. "You stop it! Stop pretending things are any differently than they are!"

"Lu," Ed murmured, "we lost half our number here. There's not much to tell."

Lucy had known that. She shivered in the sudden cold, and the darkness struck her. She supposed she had just gotten carried away. She didn't understand why everyone was so tense all of the time, and she also didn't understand why she was so sad herself. They were staying! In Narnia! …Perhaps it just didn't feel like the same Narnia, anymore.

Her shoulders sagged. In the silence that followed, she could hear Peter weeping softly at her feet.

"Aslan, forgive me."

"Shhh," she murmured, kneeling next to her brother. "Don't you know He already has?"

Peter turned to her. His face was a fright – the tears had fallen in clean tracks down his dirtied face – but it looked wonderfully serene as it came close and kissed her soundly on the forehead.

"Yes, dear Lu. I just worry whether the others have. I know I certainly haven't."

Slowly, he got to his feet and pulled Lucy up with him.

"Rather," she said, giving him a small smile.

Peter laughed chokingly, and the sound very nearly broke her heart. It reminded her of someone – someone in a distant, dreamlike memory.

"They'll be waiting for us," Susan declared, very softly.

Peter pulled Lucy to his side in a one-armed embrace, and she smiled up at him bravely before they trooped up the stairs, together.

* * *

_Miraz's Castle, Narnia, 2303_

"Welcome, everyone."

Caspian, standing tall at the head of the table, made a grand gesture to include everyone. Even though there were only a few of them sitting there, it still looked nice.

"I hope the castle suits you."

Lucy looked at Edmund. He made a face at her, and it was clear he did not think so highly of it. But as he glanced away, he sat at attention, looking every inch a king. Peter, seated to Lucy's right, was being uncharacteristically distracted as he picked at the hem of his velvet tunic. They had all bathed and gotten fresh clothes before coming to dine together in the great hall.

As Caspian continued to talk, in a way that was rather unlike him (Lucy guessed he was just nervous), Peter leaned in and began to whisper in her ear discreetly.

"Lu, I wasn't trying to scold you, you know," He said. As Susan shot a reproachful look his way, he straightened up and smiled politely before leaning in again: "Susan's going through some tough times."

Lucy nodded understandingly. She had seen all this. (They thought she was so clueless, as if _she_ had never been in love before. She supposed that they were not as clueless about _that_ as they might let on.) She had guessed that there might be a budding romance. She had known that Caspian wouldn't be able to resist admitting it for much longer. And Susan – Susan, she could read like a book. But if that was the case, why did this new love seem to involve such great unhappiness? Surely, it was only supposed to be this way at the _ending_ of a love, not at the beginning. Love wasn't supposed to end at all. Though, remorsefully, she realized that it did. (And she knew about the ending of love, or at least she knew what it was like to be cut off from it, even though you held on to it, desperately.)

She was quite surprised that all of this had gotten through to Peter. He was a brilliant leader, but in all honesty, when it came to Susan's tenuous emotions, he could be somewhat dense. She normally ended up dealing with the brunt of it, as cheerfully as she could manage. It was a little different, back when they'd actually had time to do anything other than rule a country. But they would not discuss these matters for a moment. The main course – a roast, as her sense of smell had predicted earlier – was coming out on shining platters. (Lucy didn't believe she had taken much meat in Narnia, but now that there were more animals, and less Animals, she was less opposed to doing so, since the odds were low that it was a wise beast. But still, she ate with a thankful heart towards whomever it was that had given their life so that her hunger could be appeased.) This course was followed with various summer fruits and even some chocolate, which Lucy had not eaten in ages.

When dinner had ended, Lucy was led to her room by a maid (a human one, which was quite strange indeed). The bed was unfamiliar and her nightclothes uncomfortable. It was odd having all these things, which would have normally been the comforts of home, after sleeping on rocks beneath the stars with only scraps of dried meat and hand-picked berries to eat the next morning, and feeling discomfited by them. Still, she slept deeply and easily, and so did not wake to hear her eldest brother's sobs while nightmares plagued him the whole night through.

* * *

AN: Thanks for reading! Next chapter: Caspian's coronation.


	3. The Readmittance

**The Scarlet Age**

A _Chronicles of Narnia_ Fanfiction

by hairsprayheart

Chapter Two: The Readmittance

AN: I am so, so sorry for this late update. My internet stopped working for two entire weeks. Eh. Anyway, here it is. Hope it's all right.

* * *

_Miraz's Castle, Narnia, 2303_

Aslan and Peter were walking with Susan through the morning haze. Caspian strode by, giving them a passing glance, but Aslan did not stop. Susan's heart was breaking as they talked quietly. They stood stoically through the coronation, plastering on a forced smile so the others would not know anything was wrong. But something was wrong, because then, then they had to say goodbye. Susan gave Caspian a kiss – one simple, chaste, but emotion-wrought kiss – and then the door was opened, and then they walked through...

And then she woke up.

Susan sat up suddenly as she sucked in air, her chest heaving. Her forehead glistened with a light sheen of sweat. She took in her surroundings: the cold stone walls, the dark tapestries, the unfamiliar bed she lay in. She was still here, in Narnia. With Caspian. Sighing in relief, she lay back against the pillows, taking just another moment to remember herself, to let her breathing return to normal. The dream had been so vivid.

Slowly, she pushed the covers off of herself. She was still tempted to believe that it had been real, or even a sign of what was to come. Prince Caspian was going to become king today. Just like her dream. Or, with any luck, not like it at all.

"Be reasonable," she scolded out loud. "There is too much to do to just lie here and loll about."

She swung her legs over the edge of the giant bed (Caspian had insisted that she take the room that had belonged to Miraz and Prunisipima; she supposed to be gentlemanly) and tiptoed to the dresser. Her new lady-in-waiting had left her a few dresses that looked her size, but what she really wanted was to find a pair of shoes for her chilled feet. She settled on a crimson gown with sleeves slashed to reveal hints of gold, and slipped into it. It fit her well, she noticed with pleasure. Then she found shoes and began to look for her siblings.

It was still early, but knowing her brothers, they would have been up for hours by now. Lucy, too. Though they had not slept long, it had seemed deep and perfect after the long nights of sleeping in shifts between nightmares about the castle raid and the very real fear of a Telmarine attack. She had gotten used to sleeping in strange places, anyway - after leaving Cair Paravel, she had hoped all the time to return. She had also taken to sleeping in her various siblings' bedrooms. Even when they had been in Narnia, there were always diplomatic journeys, trips into the forest, or visits to old friends.

She found the study that she believed had been designated Peter's, and went inside. A broad-shouldered man in a white linen shirt and velvet tunic stood facing away from her by the window, but his head bore no crown: definitely not Peter.

"Caspian," she gasped, without meaning to.

"Oh!" Caspian whirled around to face her, obviously as surprised as she was. "Queen Susan."

Susan nearly rolled her eyes at the irony of at all. How often did they find each other, alone? Was Aslan trying to tell her something?

"What are you doing here?" She inquired, perhaps sounding more suspicious than she had meant to.

"Thinking," Caspian admitted. "I have very large shoes to fill."

"Or share," Susan corrected him gently.

"Thank Aslan for that," Caspian agreed with a wry smile.

Susan, too, smiled at the young prince. He had adapted so quickly, it seemed, to this strange new way of life. It must be humbling to be ruled by an Animal you hadn't used to believe to be in existence.

"This is really it, isn't it?" Caspian continued. He was speaking more as if to reassure himself than he was to Susan now. "I'm going to be a king."

Susan imagined that this was the day that Caspian had always dreamed of. Ruling was in his blood, after all. Mentally, she backtracked. She did not want to think about blood (not the blood his people had spilled at the castle raid, or the blood that stained his own shoulder from the short-range crossbow bolt fired by his aunt during that same raid, or the blood forced from his palm in the attempt to fix things afterwards). No. She did not want to think about blood. Especially not today. Today was a day for new beginnings.

"Are you looking forward to it?" She asked, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers idly as she stared out the window at the swelling crowd. "...Being king, that is."

Caspian frowned a little, thinking.

"Yes. At least, I think so." He paused and looked away. "Though I am not sure I am ready."

"Aslan thinks you are," she said matter-of-factly. "I think you are."

His mouth worked silently as he thought furiously of something clever to say in return, and Susan could not help but notice the fleeting blush that lit his cheeks as he failed to do so.

"Speaking of which," she said, grinning to lighten the mood, "isn't there something you should be getting ready for?"

"The coronation!" Caspian gasped. "How could I have forgotten? I am so foolish—"

"It's all right to be nervous," Susan reassured him, interrupting. "I know I was." She watched him for a moment, their eyes searching each other, before Caspian looked away.

Flustered, he thanked her and turned quickly on his heel, nearly bumping into Peter.

Peter was adorned in his Narnian finest:

"Am I interrupting something?" He asked, not amused.

This time, Susan shared Caspian's blush.

"Not at all," she said, quick to recover. "We were just going to get ready."

"Better hurry," Peter said. His voice had softened, and Susan realized he had just been worried. How typical. "They're all waiting for you, Caspian."

The prince nodded his thanks before hurrying off.

When he was out of sight, Susan felt her brother's gaze on her. She cringed, not daring to meet his gaze.

"Su," Peter began, then trailed off. He joined her at the window. Susan looked out of it again at the throng of people.

"They're all happy about all this, aren't they?"

The cheerfulness in her voice sounded hollow, even to herself.

"What's wrong?"

"I... I'm just not sure about ruling these people," she lied, looking at her hands intently as she picked at one of her fingernails.

She tensed as Peter lifted her hands and brought them to his face. He closed his eyes briefly before opening them to lock on Susan.

"They're so soft," he noted quietly. "But they're strong." He smiled at her. "Just like you."

He let her hands drop back to her sides, and he regarded her with concern.

"You'll do fine, Su – just like you always have. ...But that's not what you're worried about, is it?"

Wordlessly, she shook her head. Tears choked her.

Peter's strong arms drew her in close for a fierce hug. Even though she had not said anything, Susan knew that he understood. He always did.

"I had a bad dream last night," she finally managed. Her voice was muffled against his shoulder. His leather jerkin looked tough, but it was actually smooth, and refreshingly cool to her hot flesh. She hoped her tears would not stain it as she rested her cheek there for another moment.

"I did, too," Peter confessed, pulling away so he could understand her a little better. "What was yours about?"

"Aslan made us leave," Susan whispered. She could hardly bear to say it. "_Forever_."

Peter looked at her hard, then laughed.

Susan leveled a glare at him. How could he be so insensitive? "Well, it wasn't nearly so funny when I woke up believing it," she snapped.

"I'm sorry, Su," he said sincerely. "It's just that me, and Ed, _and_ Lucy all had the very same dream."

"How peculiar!" Susan agreed. She looked at her brother anxiously. "Do you think that this is a sign from Aslan?"

In reply, Peter sucked in a deep breath. "I don't know," he replied honestly. "I mean, I hope not."

"I suppose we should get going," Susan acknowledged, smoothing down her dress.

Her brother nodded once. Susan started to leave the room but he caught her arm by the elbow.

"Whatever happens today…" he started to caution.

"I know, I know," she said shortly, turning back half-heartedly. "I'll be careful."

Peter crossed his arms, but he was smiling. "I was just going to tell you have fun."

Susan rolled her eyes, standing on tiptoe to press a kiss to the spot on his forehead where his crown pulled back the locks of hair that would usually hang in his eyes.

"That too," she promised.

With that, Peter was satisfied. Susan watched him leave the room, his stride steady as he went out to coronate the third of Narnia's present kings.

* * *

"There are so many people," Lucy murmured, shifting closer to Susan as they struggled to make their way through the crowd. They were late because Lucy couldn't find a dress that fit her properly, and now they had to take their place with Peter at the front of the room. (Though most would agree that they were not late, the others were just early, it was still rather difficult to move those others aside now that they were already packed into the small room.)

"I'm surprised," Susan agreed, putting an arm around her younger's sister shoulder to better shepherd her through the multitude of people, Animals, and Creatures. "I wasn't sure the Telmarines were going to be allowed in at all, let alone come by choice. I assumed most of them would still be resentful towards Caspian."

Lucy frowned.

"Why? Do they still think he killed Miraz?"

Susan pressed her lips together. "They think he killed more of their people than that, Lu. Until yesterday, we were enemies."

"And now we are friends," Lucy said hopefully.

"Now," Susan said, "it is time to be quiet."

Sure enough, a hush had fallen over the crowd: Caspian was moving towards the throne. He was surrounded by Telmarine lords and other honorable Narnians like Glenstorm the Centaur, Reepicheep the Mouse, Professor Cornelius, Trufflehunter the Badger, Mentius the Faun, even Pattertwig the Squirrel and Hogglestock the Hedgehog. Some Bulgy Bears were also present (and though they had promised not to, they were, of course, sucking their paws). Peter and Edmund stood stoic at his side, Peter looking regal and Edmund grave. Susan and Lucy joined them. And there, standing in the brilliant sunlight cast by the stained glass window, was Aslan.

Susan put her arm out to block Lucy from running to see the Lion; even though Aslan had not left as they had thought, the moment was somber and Caspian was about to be crowned. Peter inclined his head respectfully to acknowledge Caspian, and the prince did the same for him. Aslan observed this silently. Then, Peter lowered the golden crown onto the new King's head.

Aslan declared: "I give you King Caspian, King of Narnia. Once a King or Queen of Narnia, always a King or Queen of Narnia. May your wisdom grace us until the stars rain down from the heavens."

Then, as one, the Narnians joined in: "Long live King Caspian."

There were cheers and joyful shouts as Caspian looked up at his people.

"Long live Narnia!" he cried.

"Long live Narnia!" Lucy repeated enthusiastically, along with many of the rest of the Narnians, and even a few of the Telmarines.

The siblings looked at each other, beaming. Then they followed Aslan through the parting crowd into the bright sunlight.

The Narnians paraded through the streets, waving triumphantly to the happy Telmarines in their windows. Susan had only met Miraz once, for an instant, but she knew his cruelty and that his people would be glad of a new leader such as Caspian. He was, after all, the rightful king. How they would react to having four other rightful leaders was another story altogether, but for now, celebration filled the land.

They lost sight of Aslan in the throng of people, as Narnians and Telmarines alike flooded the walks to greet their new king. Caspian, resplendent in his shining crown and glittering silver tunic, basked in the glow of his surprising popularity and looked back only occasionally to make sure that Peter and Susan, Lucy and Edmund were close behind. Trumpkin wondered at the (what he believed) excessive formalities, but even he was not complaining. Red and gold banners fluttered in the breeze. The sunlight was warm on their backs, and Fauns and Dryads and Satyrs danced before them, as the five kings and queens were acknowledged. Centaurs and Minotaurs and Dwarves brought up the rear of their party, mingling with Cats and other Animals. Loyal Telmarines walked amongst them, throwing flowers or nodding respectfully. The Griffins flew overhead, screeching joyfully. It was the most beautiful day the Telmarines could remember.

In a long and lazy circle they rode through Telmarine villages, until they were back at the castle.

"And now, I wish to get some things taken care of," Caspian declared, dismounting and letting the grooms lead their horses away to the stables.

"That's all right, today is more of a celebration," Lucy said. "We can get started on everything else later."

"No, I want to," Caspian replied kindly. "I feel that we should."

Peter nodded his consent. "We'll meet you in the Great Hall in an hour."

* * *

Peter, Susan, and Edmund joined Caspian in the Great Hall, as promised, but one was noticeably missing.

"Where's Lucy?" Caspian asked, as the three oldest monarchs entered the chamber.

"She's not coming," Edmund said.

Susan pursed her lips. "It would just upset her."

"And the lords? And the Narnians?" Caspian asked.

"No. No lords," Peter said firmly. "Just us."

"Let's get down to it, shall we?" Susan asked brightly.

The others nodded their agreement.

"I don't know," Caspian said slowly. "If we have a closed council, how will be sure that the kingdom agrees with the decisions?"

"It doesn't matter, really," Peter said, starting to look like he was getting annoyed with the various interruptions. "You _are_ king, after all."

Susan, who was sitting closest to Caspian, gave him a reassuring smile and reached out to cover his hand with her own.

"We trust your judgment," she said encouragingly.

Too quickly, Caspian withdrew his hand, as if she had burned it. "I know, and I thank you for it," he murmured. "I just don't know if _I_ do."

"First order of business," Edmund said loudly, seeming to note his brother's growing impatience. "The royal council."

Caspian looked around. The others were gazing at him expectantly. Oh, so they expected him to speak first. Peter's words echoed in his head. _You _are_ king._

"I propose a council of half Telmarines and half Narnians," he said finally.

There was a moment of stunned silence before Peter spoke.

"A mixed council?" he repeated incredulously.

"You've got to be joking!" Susan cried.

"I wish I were," Caspian sighed. "But it's the only way."

"I don't suppose we could have two councils," Susan offered weakly.

Edmund frowned. "What, so they could fight with each other?"

"No!" Susan protested.

"Oh, do shut up," Peter said irritably. "She was just trying to help."

"Sorry," Edmund mumbled. Peter had not spoken to him like that in some time, and it had wounded him more than he would let on.

"It was my fault, really," Susan sighed, putting a hand on her younger brother's shoulder. "I guess all this tension is putting us all in a bad temper."

"I'm sorry, too," Peter said. "It wasn't fair of us to gang up on you like that, Ed."

"Oh, come off it," Edmund grumbled good-naturedly. "You know I hate all that mushy stuff."

Caspian looked on in amazement.

"So all is forgiven?" he asked. "That's that? When the lords disagree, they draw swords."

Peter groaned.

"Well, I suppose that _would_ be that, if we actually had a solution."

"But we do," Susan pointed out. "A mixed council."

"It could work," Edmund said dubiously.

Peter nodded. "And if doesn't, we can always make amends," he said gently, looking pointedly at Caspian.

"So, let's put together a council," Susan urged.

"Trumpkin, of course. And Reepicheep. And Glenstorm. And Cornelius…" Caspian listed names as though they were written in front of him. Edmund scribbled them down furiously on a piece of parchment. "Maybe my old nurse!"

"Slow down there," Peter said, laughing. "We need to assign them positions. And aren't those all old Narnians?"

Caspian grinned sheepishly.

"Quite right. My apologies, your Majesties."

"Are there any Telmarines you feel you could trust?" Susan prodded gently.

Caspian paused. "Not really. But I have a feeling that if we get rid of this institution, there will be even fewer."

"I don't suppose Cornelius would count," Edmund said hopefully, setting down his quill.

"He's not exactly loyal to the Telmarines, but the Narnians, too, are wary of him," Caspian said.

"Ever since the incident with Nikabrik, we _have_ been less apt to trust the Black Dwarves, in general," Peter agreed sadly.

"Well, _I_ certainly don't know anybody else," Susan said with a sigh.

"We could ask Lucy," Edmund suggested. "She's probably gotten to meet _everybody_ in the castle by now, knowing her."

"But—" Peter began to protest.

"She'll be fine, Pete," Edmund continued. "You don't need to protect her from everything."

"You're one to talk," Peter muttered under his breath.

He had not forgotten, could never forget, his younger brother's actions at the First Battle of Beruna. In his mind's eyes he could still see Edmund laid out on the ground, his chest heaving to allow a few shallow breaths and his eyes growing glassy. He had failed to protect his brother, but his brother had protected _him_. Peter would have died that day, he was sure of it, if not for Ed. And he knew he would die without Susan or Lucy too.

"Aslan _did_ say it would take all five of us," Susan said quietly.

"So that's where you were last night," Caspian mused. "I should have known. What did you talk about?"

"Just, you know, the sort of thing Aslan talks about," Peter said vaguely. "Lucy says He had a talk with you, too. …I suppose I ought to go and get her."

"It's all right. I've got it," Susan intervened, rising.

Peter nodded his thanks. The three kings were silent for the time that it took Susan to return with Lucy.

"Here, Lu. Sit next to Caspian so you can show him the ropes," Peter suggested, gesturing to Susan's chair. (He hadn't meant for that to sound so derogatory; really he hadn't. It had just come out that way. He smiled at Caspian apologetically.)

"Oh, that's all right. I'd rather sit next to you. Su can do it," she said cheekily. "No offense, Caspian."

"None taken, your Majesty."

Susan narrowed her eyes at her younger sister, but it was all done in good fun, and the girl simply smiled innocently.

"In any case, these are the names that have been picked so far," Peter said, showing Lucy the list of names that Edmund had penned as soon as the two queens had gotten themselves settled in their seats.

"Wow. That's quite a lot," Lucy agreed. "But no Telmarines. What about the lords Drinian and Rhince?"

_Leave it to Lu to hunt out the loyal lords in one night, _Edmund thought fondly.

"Trumpkin is a very good and loyal dwarf. Might I suggest the position of regent? …and, of course, general for Glenstorm – that has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? – and captain of the royal guard for Reep."

"What about Cornelius?"

"I don't know," Lucy said. "Royal… Tutor? Master Educator?"

"I think Drinian and Rhince would also serve well on the guard. They are both men of wisdom and courage," Caspian remarked.

"Well, if you think you can still trust them after all of this, then they must be good," Edmund said, only half-teasingly.

"They have served Narnia well, I am sure," Peter concluded, with a finality that indicated the transition to a new topic. "Now that we have decided on the main council, shall we go on to matters of the castle?"

"I don't think we should keep all of the old staff," Susan said. "We are not sure whom to trust."

"That'd go over well. An animal council being served by Telmarine servants," Caspian joked weakly.

"I had an idea," Edmund spoke up. "What about rebuilding Cair Paravel?"

"Rebuild the Cair?" Peter ran his hand through his hair, as he did when he was particularly stressed or excited about something. "I don't know, Ed. I mean, I'd love to, but that's a pretty big project."

"I think we should do it," Caspian enthused, glad of the chance to show the kings and queens his gratitude to them for their presence, as well as mend the relationship between their people and his. "Now that we don't have to pay soldiers, we have the funds, and certainly the workers."

"Really?" Lucy's eyes sparkled with her excitement. "Oh, that sounds so wonderful! Just think of it, Peter. It could be just like—"

She faltered suddenly, but was quick to rebound.

"We can all rule there together," she said, in a more formal tone.

"It does sound wonderful," Peter agreed, though he still sounded a little bit skeptical. He looked to his oldest sister. "What do you think, Su?"

"I think we should do it," she responded immediately. "I don't see any reason not to."

"Well, it's settled, then," Peter declared, his face nearly splitting with a grin. "Tomorrow morn we ride out to the ruins and begin making plans."

"Wait," Lucy said. "Shouldn't we ask Aslan about this, first?"

Susan frowned slightly. "I think He's gone, Lucy."

The youngest queen shook her head stubbornly.

"I don't think so," she insisted. "He's never really gone, you know."

"Yes, yes," Peter said, sounding annoyed. (It wasn't that he was upset with his sisters; he just didn't want another fight on his hands, especially not one involving Lucy.) "We do know, Lu. Thank you." He paused thoughtfully – how to put this? "But I think He would want this for us. Don't you?"

Lucy's lip twitched. _Things never happen the same way twice._ "All right," she agreed finally. "But if anything bad happens, we'll know that He doesn't, right?"

Susan smoothed down her younger sister's hair lovingly and kissed the top of her head.

"Yes, love," she promised. She looked around the room at the others, her gaze lingering for an extra second on Caspian. She had not forgotten her dream. "Now that we have all of this stuffy business squared away, I believe we have a ball to attend."

Lucy squealed excitedly and for just a moment, they remembered how young she was; how young they _all _were. But then the moment was over, and they all exited the chamber, off to just another task as the five rulers of Narnia.

* * *

Susan was in her element.

She hadn't planned a ball in a year, but it felt like an eternity. She was surprised by the amount of people and Creatures that had turned up to Caspian's coronation ball, and even more surprised at how well the Telmarines danced. Some of the braver ones were doing a jig right alongside the Fauns.

She hadn't planned a ball in a year. She hadn't danced at one for even longer.

Watching the pairs hungrily, she wondered if she would be out of place there on the floor with them, whirling across the hardwood like a flower on the breeze, tossed from partner to partner in this reckless beauty.

Her seat felt suddenly uncomfortable. And her feet tingled. She was going to do it. She was.

She had half risen when she felt a hand on her arm. She would have quite easily evaded whoever it was that was trying to stop her – even Peter was not strong enough to resist one of her best glares – but the hand was not restrictive, only resting lightly. And it belonged to Caspian.

"Would you care to dance, your Majesty?" he asked respectfully.

"I would indeed," Susan answered, with considerable relief. "Thank you," she added in a whisper.

Caspian simply nodded, and led her gently to the floor.

"Do you know this dance?" Susan murmured, her voice rising unexpectedly as his hand fluttered over her hip.

"My apologies," Caspian mumbled, retracting his hand. They stood awkwardly in the middle of the circling couples.

Susan took his hand and settled it more firmly on her hip, noticing with slight satisfaction the way his breath seemed to catch. "I asked, do you know this dance?"

"Nay," Caspian replied quietly.

"Then I will show you," Susan said, raising her chin a notch. "Come."

She sidestepped, and Caspian mimicked her movement. She moved backwards and he did also. She spun once, slowly, letting him follow her. Soon, she was moving faster, twirling and leaping, and she barely noticed whether or not her partner was keeping up until she halted suddenly and his nose was nearly touching hers. They panted, gazing at each other as they gasped for air.

"You are a skillful dancer, my Queen," Caspian gasped.

"If I may, I would say the same to you, my King," Susan acknowledged breathlessly.

"I was taught by the best," he murmured. His eyes flickered sideways, just enough to catch sight of Peter, and fluttered closed for an instant before locking back on hers.

"Caspian," Susan said, haltingly, "I—"

But she said no more as fireworks began to in the black sky, telling all Narnia of their glorious victory.

She glanced away and strode out of the room, trying to ignore Caspian's shouts over the booming firecrackers. She would not allow herself to admit to her feelings. Not to herself, and especially not to their object.


	4. The Remembrance

**The Scarlet Age**

A _Chronicles of Narnia_ Fanfiction

by hairsprayheart

Chapter Three: The Remembrance

* * *

AN: Sorry this took forever. This chapter is pretty intense, emotion-wise, just to warn you. Hope it's all right.

* * *

The High King was hiding.

He really, really did not want to go to whatever this ceremony was. It was not like him to shirk his duties, nor was it like him to be afraid. It was even less likely that fear would be of something so selfish as not wanting things to change. But oh, how they were changing!

He wanted to ride out to Cair Paravel - or rather, the ruins of it - and begin planning straightaway. He wanted to spend time with his family - just his family - and relax for a while. He wanted things to go back to the way they were. These Telmarines, with their lavish ceremonies to hide their underlying corruption, had killed his Narnia. It was not that he didn't like Caspian - as a friend, or even perhaps fellow soldier (they had, after all, compromised enough after the first disaster to come back with a stunning victory) - it was just that he was not sure he could trust him. _Maybe_ as a fellow ruler, but four were quite enough. Those dark eyes seemed to swirl with deceit. And lust.

He had seen the two of them dancing last night. Susan was beautiful and graceful and regal and alone. He had been about to ask her to dance when Caspian beat him to it. Peter was not oblivious to the prince - _king's_ - gentlemanly flattery and shy flirtations. And he did not like them.

Peter knew that it was perfectly natural that the boy fancied Susan. But that she would fancy _him_... That was a surprise. He sulked comfortably in the hazy joy, memories of a past life, of the Golden Age. When Susan had loved only _him_, and Aslan, and Narnia.

He already had to share Narnia, and his crown. But was that enough? No. The little prig had to get Susan, too.

While Peter's mind took refuge in angry thoughts and happier memories, his body was tucked up into a wardrobe between two items of clothing he was supposed to don for Caspian's "acknowledgment".

It wasn't that Caspian was a bad fellow; no, that wasn't it at all. But Susan didn't run off nearly crying for no reason. And Caspian was the reason. How dare Caspian toy with _Peter's_ siblings! Even Lucy was enchanted by him. The only one who hadn't fallen totally under his spell was Ed. Good old--

"Edmund!" Peter shouted in surprise, as the doors of the wardrobe were thrown open to flood it with blinding light.

"Er, sorry, Pete," his brother apologized hastily. "I didn't know you were in here."

In spite of himself, Peter smiled. Edmund crawled in and huddled next to Peter, seeming to understand without even asking.

"What were you looking for?" Peter asked.

"A shirt that fits. It seems they were expecting me to be smaller," Edmund replied with a sigh. "But you are quite preferable. …Everyone's waiting, y'know." He paused for a long moment. "What are _you_ looking for?"

"Myself," Peter admitted softly.

"Ah."

Edmund was quiet. Wardrobes were good places to find things, he knew. Most especially oneself.

"They don't really need us, I don't think," he said finally.

Peter groaned.

"We should go."

"As Narnia's rulers, and as Caspian's friends, yes, we _should_. But there is nothing saying we _have_ to."

"You're a good brother, Ed. But we really ought to."

Edmund shrugged (as well as one _can_ shrug in cramped quarters).

"I doubt many of them want us there anyway. We could make up an excuse about a Black Dwarf rebellion or some such nonsense."

Edmund, Peter knew, was the most sympathetic of the four kings and queens towards Dark creatures. Though one would expect the opposite after his previous experiences, he was determined that "even a traitor may mend". By listening to their complaints, having faith in their military prowess (it paid off), and doing his best to convince them of Aslan, he lived up to his reputation as the Just King. Peter, on the other hand, still burned at the way they had treated his brother, and was less understanding.

"Oh, bother the Black Dwarves," Peter growled. "There's someone else who needs our protection."

"Ugh. Don't remind me," Ed moaned.

"I didn't think it was possible to forget."

"I know. But I was thinking a nice thought a moment ago."

Peter covered his face with his hands and moaned into them. "All I've been able to think about is the way it used to be. Hundreds of suitors, and every single one turned down."

"Those were the days," his brother agreed.

"Poor chaps," Peter said, smiling wryly as he remembered the many men Susan had said "no" to during the Golden Age.

"Say," Edmund spoke up, a wide smile spreading over his face, "I know what we ought to do."

Peter looked up and eyed the younger king sharply. "You wouldn't."

"Oh, I would," Edmund promised.

"That's the problem." At the thought of his younger brother tormenting yet another one of Susan's many suitors, Peter found himself feeling extremely satisfied. However, he was still the High King, and Narnia's interests came before his own. "He is Narnia's king, you know – not just another lost and lovestruck boy."

"I beg to differ," Ed snorted. "Just watch him."

"I was. All last night."

Edmund groaned. "What did he do?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot that _some_ of us were too busy stuffing their faces to pay attention," Peter teased, shifting in the cramped space to give Edmund a brotherly shove. "He made Susan cry. I don't know why. She hasn't talked to me all morn."

Edmund glowered at the closed door of the wardrobe. Despite their playfulness, both of the young kings knew that the situation was serious. No one – _no one_ – could make their sister cry and get away with it.

"Find your shirt?" Peter asked, hinting that they should leave.

"I'll be fine with this one," was the cranky reply.

"Then let's go. We've some things to take care of."

Edmund heaved a great sigh. Of all the things they had to take care of (unruly citizens, war casualties, merging two peoples, etc.) the last thing he wanted to do was protect his sister from someone that was supposed to be working with them. Particularly since that someone was also a friend. And his sister apparently loved that someone in return.

"Haven't we enough on our plate already?"

"We do indeed," Peter sighed. He got to his feet and pulled Edmund out of the wardrobe after him, handing him a shirt. "We had better start eating."

* * *

It was a beautiful day, and Peter greatly resented this.

He was almost guilty to stand by Aslan while such angry thoughts ran through his head, but and was quite glad that the Lion separated him from Caspian. All of his siblings, Susan included, were on _his_ side, fortunately. He was still wrapped up in thinking when Aslan began to speak to the Telmarines.

"You who seek a new land, hear my words."

For a great while, the Lion spoke, and Peter was lulled into contentment by his rich voice and shining mane. At mentions of Caspian, he stiffened, but his anger at the new king gradually lessened.

He watched, with mixed feelings, as a few Telmarines dared to go through the door that Aslan had made for them, as a way into their new land. As the Lion breathed upon them, they were changed, and he wished that Aslan would change him. Still, he was not envious of those who had to leave Narnia, even if it was by choice. There were only a few reasons for which he would leave – one being for the safekeeping of his family, but for now, he still had that mostly under control.

For a few moments, they stood in stunned silence as the Telmarines passed through the door and disappeared. Peter watched Aslan with some anxiety, wondering if they would have to leave, and hoping that they would not. But he was comforted by Aslan's words from two nights before.

"It is finished," Aslan said, and the door twisted closed. Peter felt himself relax.

Aslan padded away, the crowd parting to make a path for him – whether this was done out of fear or respect, Peter did not know. All he knew was that he was now face to face with Caspian.

"Good morning, King Peter," he said, in his rich accent.

Peter regarded the young man coldly. "And to you."

"There are some things I wish to speak to you about."

When Caspian spoke for a second time, Peter realized that he was nervous. _As he well should be_, he thought, his temper flaring once again.

"Perhaps they should not be said here," he suggested, his teeth clenched.

"Actually," Caspian said tentatively, looking at the crowd of supporters around him, "perhaps they should."

"Not all of your matters belong to the kingdom," Peter replied, in a low voice that barely contained his growing anger. Was Caspian so cowardly that he could not have a talk, man to man? "But they shall if you go on like this in front of them."

Peter waved to the crowd, giving them a forced smile, and Caspian was wise enough to do the same. It appeared to the crowd as though they were getting along well, so the Narnians gave a hearty cheer.

"You shall not upset my royal sister," Peter hissed. "Or there shall be a price to pay."

Caspian blanched visibly, and Peter stood down in satisfaction.

"Good day, your Majesty," he said, triumphantly, and walked away.

The rest of his family followed – Susan glanced at Caspian quickly before looking away with the same haste, Edmund smirked, and Lucy smiled and waved unknowingly. The day had turned out nicely, after all.

* * *

_Shuddering Wood, Narnia, 1002 _

"_I'm hungry," Edmund muttered, over the third loud growl his stomach had recently emitted._

_"Well," Susan said brightly, "Lucky for you, I just so happened to pack us all lunch." Proud to make use of her new domestic skills, she produced a few small packages that were held closed with curls of delicate ribbon to match their crimson garments. (_How utterly Susan_, Lucy thought fondly as she looked upon the delightful little wrappings.)_

_"Aww, you shouldn't have," Peter smiled, one corner of his mouth upturned in a boyish grin. He gratefully took the little sack, almost not wanting to open it, seeing as his sister'd gone through all the trouble._

_Tearing his own lunch open, Edmund's face fell as he realized that the lunch he had been so looking forward to was a rather unappetizing mass of vegetables and some dark and ominous-looking goop of some sort. "You shouldn't have."_

_"Oh, but I did," Susan said dryly, her eyes dancing mischievously. "So you might as well eat it." Her gaze returned to the forest path ahead of them. "After all, you were just now oh-so-hungry."_

_"Eat it?" Edmund looked again at the package apprehensively. "I'd rather eat my own bal—"_

_"—ogna," Susan finished, shooting him a reproachful glance. "I have that too, you know..."_

_Here he brightened at the mention of meat – real food. He was a man's man, and his impatience to grow large enough to fight with his older brother left him with a voracious appetite._

"…_but only for good little boys who don't complain."_

_"I don't want it, if you made it," Edmund grumbled. Of course there had been a catch._

_"Oh, come on, Ed," Peter said, looking exasperated. "Don't be such a baby." But he was not touching his own Susan creation._

_"Food is food," Lucy finally decided, unimpressed with her brothers' display of bad manners. She dipped her tongue fleetingly into the mixture to taste it. "It's actually not bad."_

_"Thanks." Susan stamped an appreciative kiss on her younger sister's forehead. "You always were the brave one."_

Peter smiled at the memory. It had been the second year of their reign, summer time, and they were on a long ride together. Then, there had been no suitors. Only the four of them.

Now, he was readying himself for another ride, this one an extremely long one, to Cair Paravel. Or rather, the ruins of it. He had promised his family that they would begin plans to rebuild it this very day. The earlier festivities had delayed their plans somewhat, but he had no mind to forget about them.

He was in his room, and had just finished changing into more comfortable clothes, when there was a knock on his door. He went to answer it, half hoping it was not Caspian (he really didn't want to deal with him at the moment, and more likely than not it would be with a reason why they couldn't go to the Cair) and half hoping it was (he would rather like to give him a piece of his mind). But he was surprised to find that it was Susan.

"Hullo, Su," he greeted her. "C'mon in. I'm just getting ready for our trip."

"What trip?" Susan asked absently, seating herself on his bed.

Peter frowned. "To the Cair. To make plans."

"Hm. I'm pretty tired, Peter. Can't it wait another day?"

Peter's frown deepened.

"But I already promised Lu."

"Then the three of you can go," Susan replied dully. "I think I'll just rest here for a while."

"Su, is there something you need to talk to me about?" Peter asked suspiciously.

Susan pressed her lips into a hard line, as she always did when she was trying to keep from blurting something out. Or crying.

"I saw Caspian upset you at the ball last night."

"You did?" Susan squeaked. "I—"

"You ran off," he reminded her flatly.

"I needed a respite," Susan lied. "The dancing got to my head…"

"It didn't seem to until I saw you with Caspian."

"It was quite a dance."

"I'll say," Peter grumbled. "You, and Caspian, you…"

"We talked a little, afterwards," Susan admitted finally.

"Did he say anything?"

"Not… really. Not that I remember."

Peter paused. She was trying to hide something. Oh, by the _Lion_, she _loved_ him! She loved _Caspian_.

"There was more to it than you let on," he said knowingly.

Susan shook her head wordlessly. Hot tears filled her eyes, and she refused to meet Peter's gaze. He gently took her chin in his hand and lifted it so that she was forced to look at him.

"Su, sweet, what _are_ you doing?" he asked. "We're only children."

Susan laughed – a bitter, self-deprecating laugh.

"That's just it. We're not. We haven't been since the First Battle of Beruna. We haven't been since Mum sent us away, since Dad left for the war. We grew up, Peter."

Peter looked at her fiercely. "You're still my younger sister."

"Stop it," Susan said, wrenching away. "You don't have to protect me all the time."

"Yes! I do!" Peter defended himself adamantly. "...I promised," he finished, in a desperate whisper.

"Promised _who_, exactly?"

Susan's voice was cutting in its raw fury.

"Yourself? Mum? Or Aslan? Because goodness knows _he's_ broken _his_ promises to _us_."

Recoiling in shock, Peter used the nearest stone wall to lean against. His mind reeled. Did it matter that Aslan had let them leave? It had been their own fault – and now they were back.

"What are you saying?" he demanded hoarsely. "Why are you being like this?"

Susan glared at him. "You wouldn't understand."

Peter sagged. _Caspian._

"He... He's hurt you, hasn't he?" he asked quietly.

"What? I... No! Peter, how--"

"Well, I don't know what else it could be, Susan! Every time I turn around you're fighting something. Whatever happened to being gentle?"

"We grew up," Susan repeated coldly.

"We grew up in _Narnia_!"

"Yes, and for what?"

"Oh, I see what you're about," Peter said slowly. "You're angry that we were sent away, aren't you? You see what Narnia's come to and think you could have stopped it if we had stayed."

"Yes," Susan replied indignantly. "Yes, all right? Is that what you wanted? To be right?"

"If you think that you're the only one who got hurt when we left, you had better think some more," Peter said. "Look around you! - But everyone else moved on. This isn't the Golden Age we knew, but it could be the start of a new one."

Susan shook her head.

"_You_ look around, Peter! You think we can return to the glory days just like that? These people are hurting. We're on the brink of all-out war!"

"I know," peter growled. "And I _am_ trying. You have no _idea_ how I am trying! While you are off frolicking with Caspian, doing Aslan-knows-what, me and Ed are running a kingdom of people – that hate us – by ourselves!"

"Well, maybe they wouldn't hate you so much if you didn't boss them around so!"

Peter's mouth fell agape in his shock.

"Boss them around!" he repeated incredulously. "I am High King!"

"You," Susan accused, "are nothing more than a conceited, jealous boy!"

"ENOUGH!" Peter roared.

Then, more quietly, he repeated, "Enough."

Susan stared at him. He looked utterly kingly, but the rage had been emptied from his face to be replaced with deep weariness.

"Su, can't you see that this is tearing our family apart?" He whispered. "I don't understand you anymore. I don't even _see_ you."

Susan blinked at him but said nothing.

Peter shook his head, a grim smile lighting on his face for half of an instant. "You know, I really _am_ a bit jealous of Caspian. You certainly spend more time with him than me."

At this confession, Susan hesitated. She had not heard Peter admit to his feelings so easily in quite some time.

"It's true that Narnia isn't the same," he murmured. "But I don't suppose that we are, either."

He paced the room once, slowly, fisting his hands and relaxing alternately with each step.

"We're hard and bitter, too. Aren't we? I think, perhaps, the only way to soften back up is to hit ourselves together a few times."

Susan's eyes widened, then fluttered closed. She exhaled quietly and looked at her brother.

"Aslan help us, Susan! I hate fighting with you. But if that's what it takes to save us, that is what it takes. …I promised to take care of Narnia. But I promised to take care of you first."

"Oh, Peter!"

At this, Susan threw her arms around her brother's neck and wept. She could not bear to be angry with him. Now, even more than ever, she needed him - his quiet strength, his unconditional love, his healing leadership. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Su," Peter sighed, leaning into the embrace with relief.

There was nothing he hated more than fighting with his siblings. It had once been only a very rare occurrence.

For a very long moment, they stood there in soothing silence, the only sound being their soft breathing.

"I think we need to take a holiday," he announced. "Just the four of us."

"A holiday?" Susan's eyes sparkled. They hadn't done anything as the four of them in ages.

"We should ride out to the Cair, as promised."

Susan nodded against Peter's broad chest. It would be wonderful just to get away from all of this, if only for a day. Without thinking, really, she asked, "Will Caspian be all right by himself?"

She felt her brother tense. _Oh, please, not again_.

"He'll be fine," Peter said simply. "He has Trumpkin and Glenstorm. And Reepicheep."

Daring to give him a tentative smile, Susan snuggled harder against her brother, finding solace amidst the haven of his strong arms.

This was all that she had wanted. Attention, love, comfort. She had found it in Caspian's gentlemanly flattery, but what she truly longed for was the bond between her and her siblings to be strong again. And in the first, she had failed to find the other. She would not make the same mistake again.

"And I have you," she mumbled.

Peter kissed the top of her head. "You shall _always_ have me."


	5. The Redirection

**The Scarlet Age**

A _Chronicles of Narnia_ Fanfiction

by hairsprayheart

Chapter Four: The Redirection

All of the ceremonies were over. Lucy wandered through the halls aimlessly, feeling quite alone. She had been unable to shake her loneliness for quite some time. More than a year, actually.

It had been enough, or at least nearly enough, knowing that they all had each other when they left Narnia. She kept in mind that Aslan still had a plan for them, and hoped fervently that plan would include returning to Narnia. Little did she know under what circumstances that return would occur. When they did occur, she had felt at least a little closer to Aslan – even though she wasn't sure where he was or when she would see him, she could feel him. When she finally saw him and no one believed in her, she felt alone. When she was left behind during the raid and no one believed in Aslan, she felt even more alone. When she was sent out by herself to seek Aslan and everyone believed in her _and_ Aslan, she still felt dreadfully alone. Aslan was the only one who could comfort her, and now that he was gone again (or so she believed), she felt another pang of bitter solitude settle over her.

So immersed was she in her cloud of self-pity that she was not paying attention when someone about her size ran into her.

"Oof," she gasped, falling onto her backside and becoming momentarily dazed.

"Stews and saddles – my apologies, your Majesty," came the gruff voice of Trumpkin, who was also clearly surprised. He got to his feet clumsily and helped her up.

"Neither of us were paying attention," Lucy acknowledged with a small smile. "It was my fault."

"Not gone on your ride yet, I see," Trumpkin rambled, trying unsuccessfully to regain his dignity. He was not normally a rambling sort of Dwarf (well, really, none of them are).

Lucy shook her head. "I'm not sure if everyone else is ready yet."

"Might want to be lookin' at the stables."

"You're right. Thank you, Trumpkin."

The Dwarf merely grunted and went on his way. Lucy pushed away thoughts of her smarting backside and ran off towards the stables. She was almost out the door when she heard Trumpkin call:

"Good day, your Majesty!"

"And to you, Trumpkin!"

She smiled a little to herself. Her D.L.F. always seemed to know exactly how to help.

* * *

  
"Well, here we are," Peter said grandly.

"Finally," Edmund muttered.

"Sor-ree that my ladies-in-waiting insist on my looking presentable for you

two," Susan sniffed. "Not that you deserve it."

The boys harrumphed but Lucy giggled.

"The cooks have packed us all a lovely lunch," she spoke up, to ease the growing tension. She knew that all of her older siblings had been under great stress as of late. No one was quite sure of their place yet in this _new_ Narnia, and it was a struggle to find it.

"Are there any eggs?" Edmund asked hopefully.

"One just for you," Lucy promised him with a grin, "compliments of Silveroot."

"Shut your mouth, Ed," Peter teased. "You're drooling."

"For the egg, or for Silveroot?" Susan asked, laughingly. Everyone knew that Silveroot was the most beautiful dryad north of Beaversdam. Edmund had never voiced his opinion of her, but had been making even more trips to the kitchen than usual since she had begun to work there.

Edmund grinned – Lucy knew that he only loved Silveroot's cooking, not the dryad herself – and playfully rejoined, "You're one to talk."

Everyone went silent, and Susan's face paled in fury.

"I have told you before and I will tell you again that there is nothing going on between me and Caspian."

Edmund blinked rapidly. "Sorry, I—I was only kidding…"

"Su would much rather spend time with us, wouldn't you?" Peter prodded.

"There's nothing wrong with Caspian," Lucy pointed out, defending her friend. "All of us love Susan and there's no problem."

"It's different," Peter replied stiffly. He was clearly growing uncomfortable and Lucy could see his mind scrambling for a way to change the subject politely.

"He's busy, anyway," Susan added, "with all of his new duties to get used to. It's better that we take a day to ourselves and allow him to sort everything out. Even if I was interested in him – _and I'm _not_ saying I am_ – there are so many reasons why we shouldn't pursue a relationship."

"Oh, Su, but he is so enamored with you," Lucy gushed.

"As were hundreds of other men," Peter reminded her.

"I can not say the same of my feelings for him," Susan tacked on staunchly.

"Ohhh," Lucy murmured, fisting her hands in her skirts in frustration, "I wish caring for someone meant that they cared for you back."

Edmund pressed his lips into a thin line. "Well, it doesn't."

"You just told me you fancied him a few days ago," Lucy insisted, growing exasperated with her siblings' unwillingness to listen to her.

"Well, sometimes, people say things that they don't mean in order to keep other people happy," Susan said flatly.

The valiant queen shook her head violently, her face flaming with indignation. No matter what Susan said, Lucy knew that her sister loved Caspian. It was evident in the way she stared off into the distance at nothing, her constant fiddling with her dresses or her hair, or the way her cheeks flushed when she was around the new king.

"Why are you lying to me?" she cried.

Having had enough of this conversation, Lucy spurred her horse ahead. She may have looked immature, but she did not care. Why would no one believe her?

She had been right, multiple times, about seeing things that others did not. First, it had been Narnia. Then, it had been Aslan. And now, it was Susan's feelings for Caspian.

They would see. They would all see. She would prove that Susan's feelings for Caspian, just like Narnia, _did_ exist.

* * *

"Lu? Lucy, I know you're up there."

Lucy looked down at her older sister. Of course it had to be _her_ that was the first to find her. (Why did she even have to be found? She was perfectly safe here, and content to be alone with her thoughts.) Susan was directing her sternest frown up at the tree branch from which Lucy's thin white legs dangled. Her resoluteness was somewhat diminished by the fact that her voice wavered at the sight of how very _high_ the branch was. Lucy knew exactly what her royal sister was thinking: _It is just as well that she comes down_.

Lucy sighed loudly. "Please let me down, good Tree, and I thank you for your company."

Slowly, with much leaf-rustling, the branch lowered and Lucy dropped to the ground from a safer height.

"Hello, Susan," she said, regarding her sister coldly and drawing herself up to her full height, arms crossed over her chest.

"Erm… I suppose I should apologize," Susan mumbled in reply.

Lucy raised an eyebrow, in a way that was meant to be intimidating, but said nothing. Susan dragged one toe through the dirt awkwardly.

"I mean— I say, Lucy, stop looking at me like that!"

"Well, how do you want me to look at you, Susan? You lied to me," Lucy said, more matter-of-factly than accusingly. "I'd rather not look at you at all."

"I suppose that was the point, wasn't it?" Susan murmured, looking back up at the tree sheepishly.

"Were you planning on apologizing, then?"

"Lucy, I…"

"Never mind that," Lucy interrupted, dropping to the ground and patting the earth beside her – an invitation. "You lied, and I forgive you. But why?"

Susan looked tired. "Why does anyone lie, Lucy?"

"So you _did_ lie," Lucy confirmed, trying not to look overly smug.

Susan pursed her lips.

"Yes. I find Caspian attractive. Is that so wrong?"

"No!" Lucy replied adamantly. "It's not wrong at all. Which is why I don't understand why you pretend that you don't fancy him."

"It's complicated, Lucy."

Which was, of course, just another way of saying _you're too young to know_.

"It can't be that complicated. You know, womanly urges and that sort of thing."

"Lucy Pevensie!" Susan squealed, looking scandalized.

Lucy grinned impishly. "Well, it's _true_."

"Is not."

"Is too."

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"Is _not_!"

With a sniff, Lucy replied, "And you say I'm the immature one."

"Come here," Susan said with a smile, and opened her arms for a hug.

Lucy happily obliged, and Susan folded her into a warm embrace. They remained like that for a moment, Susan's voice muffled against Lucy's shoulder.

"You can always make me smile, you know that?"

"It's what I do best," Lucy said proudly.

"I wish I were more like you."

"Really?" Lucy sat back, bewildered. "But why? You're so beautiful and graceful and capable…"

Susan laughed lightly.

"You must be joking. Just look at me around Caspian. Nice fool I am."

"I don't think he thinks that," Lucy said thoughtfully. "I think you're nervous for nothing. …That's it, isn't it? You're nervous."

"A bit," Susan confessed. "It's just that… there are so many things that I'm not sure of anymore. What if Caspian doesn't like me? What if the Telmarines don't like me? What if… what if we have to leave again?"

Lucy scoffed. "Caspian adores you, and so do his people. And you already know that we won't be leaving for a good while."

Though she hummed her approval, Susan didn't seem entirely convinced.

"Then what are you so afraid of?"

Susan trailed one finger in the dirt.

"I… I don't know."

Lucy frowned. "It's not Peter and Edmund, is it?"

At Susan's grimace, Lucy knew that she had hit home.

"Oh, bother those boys," she grumbled. "Su, really, can you blame them for being a little jealous?"

"I suppose not," Susan murmured.

Lucy gave her sister a tentative smile, and intertwined her fingers with her own. "It was hard for them, having to do this on their own. They have the whole of Narnia on their shoulders, and enemies coming from all sides. And they still have to protect us – from everything, suitors included."

At the mention of Caspian as a possible suitor, Susan flushed.

"You won't let them down by liking Caspian, you know. They just want you to be happy."

Susan looked at her sister carefully.

"When did you acquire such great wisdom, sister?"

Lucy just shrugged. "I wasn't always a child."

Susan huffed. "You don't think _I'm_ a child, do you?"

"That depends," Lucy replied. "Are you asking if I think you're too young to fancy Caspian?"

Susan nodded.

"No," came the firm reply. "But fancying is different than courting."

Susan tittered.

"Stop being such a ninny," Lucy scolded playfully, swatting her sister's shoulder.

Happily, Susan lay back against the cool earth.

"It's not as if it's such a stretch of the imagination to think of Caspian courting you," Lucy added, just in case Susan had not gotten the point (though she obviously had).

"Do you really think so?"

Lucy rolled her eyes.

"Do you know me to be a liar?"

"Not once," Susan replied, with slight guilt.

"Come on," Lucy said, getting to her feet. "The others are probably still looking for me."

"Probably."

Susan brushed the dirt from her skirts and led Lucy and her mount over to where Susan's mare was tied. She leapt neatly aboard and Lucy clambered up into the saddle of her own horse.

"Which way did you come from?" Susan asked, when both of them were settled.

"I dunno. I was just riding. You're the one who had to follow me."

"I was just following the sound of your voice."

Lucy paused. "The trees _are_ good listeners."

"I suppose we're lost, then," Susan said, a hint of dismay creeping into her voice.

"It's all right," Lucy reassured her, "they'll find us."

"I miss Talking Horses," Susan said with a sigh.

"These are perfectly nice, though." Lucy patted the gelding apologetically.

"Maybe if they were treated well, they wouldn't have gone dumb," Susan agreed sadly. "Not even given names or anything."

"We should name them now," Lucy suggested.

"Naming them isn't going to enable them to help us."

"Oh, don't be such a spoilsport," Lucy scolded half-heartedly. "Everyone deserves a name."

Susan sighed and dismounted. "If nothing else, I suppose it will occupy our minds till we are found."

Lucy followed suit, knowing that it would be better to stay in one place than to get lost further.

"One of the legends talks about a noble steed that was struck dumb," she mused. "Xanthus. What do you think?"

The dark gelding bobbed his head convulsively, and Lucy laughed.

"Xanthus it is, then."

"Which way were we going?" Susan asked suddenly.

"Erm – north, I think," Lucy guessed. "Why?"

"We can't be going north," Susan replied irritably. "We'd be headed straight back for the castle. We should be going southeast, following the Great River. Or, at least, that's the way the boys went to look for you."

Lucy sighed miserably, seeing her sister's point and feeling guilty for running off. "So you're saying that in order for everyone to find us they'd have to double back."

"Or _we_ would," Susan agreed.

"Maybe we should just keep going," Lucy said. "The forest has to end eventually."

At this, Susan's stomach growled loudly. The queens looked at each other and laughed.

"Oh, dear," Lucy said.

"Why do you say that?" Susan asked, looking at her sister nervously.

Lucy held up a package triumphantly.

"_We_ have the lunch satchel."

They laughed all the harder for their good fortune.

"I suppose we should share," Lucy said eventually, when her belly ached from laughter and hunger. "If we ride hard we can catch up to them."

"Edmund will be wanting his egg," Susan noted.

"All right, Xanthus," Lucy said, putting the satchel away and kneading her heels gently along her mount's sides, "let's go!"

Eager for a good gallop, the bay responded to her command easily, with Susan and her saddle mare in hot pursuit. With any luck, they would be reunited with their brothers within the hour. After lunch, their next meals would be made from the River for the remainder of their journey to Cair Paravel.

* * *

"Phew! What a treat," Susan sighed. Her cheeks were flushed from the hard ride and being whipped by her windblown hair. The four siblings had found each other – with the aid of a few helpful dryads – and were just sitting down for lunch. When everyone had dismounted their horses and tied them nearby to enjoy some of the grass, Lucy brought out the satchel and unwrapped it to reveal its contents.

"I'll say," Edmund said happily, as he spotted his egg.

Lucy smiled. "Isn't this nice? Just like old times."

Peter gave her an appreciative smile and hugged her close.

"I was worried we wouldn't find you for quite some time, girls. We were just about to send out a bird when we found you."

"I _am_ sorry for being such a bother this morning," Lucy apologized, for about the thirtieth time. "I don't know what came over me."

"I suppose it was because _I_ was being such a bother," Susan said with a wry smile of her own.

"We all were," Peter put in. "All that matters is that we're together and some day soon, we're going to have peace and quiet back at the Cair."

"Hooray," Edmund said half-heartedly through a mouthful of food.

"Edmund," Susan said reproachfully.

He rolled his eyes and went back to eating.

"Think of it, Susan," Lucy gushed, her eyes glittering, "all of the balls, and feasts, and tourneys…"

"Something for everyone," Peter agreed. He shot a glance at Edmund. "Save some for the rest of us, will you?"

"You have been dreadfully hungry lately, Ed," Susan said. "I guess there's a good reason for going into the kitchen after all."

"Let it go already, will you?" Edmund asked grumpily. "It's what happens when you start growing again."

"Lucky you waited till after the war rationing was over," Lucy teased.

Peter gave a low whistle. "I haven't thought about Finchley in some time," he said in wonderment. "It used to seem like I couldn't forget about it."

"Our minds have been otherwise occupied," Lucy murmured.

"It _is_ strange," Edmund muttered. "Now that there are five rulers, we have less power than ever."

"Well, I certainly don't mind it," Susan said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "More time to enjoy myself."

"And each other's company," Peter put in smilingly.

"I mind it," Lucy mumbled. "All those pompous Telmarine lords… Even with the four of us put together we had less control than they do over Narnia."

Peter sighed. "They will cause a problem."

"I still haven't forgiven them for killing Miraz," Edmund grumbled. "Well— I mean, I don't really mind that they killed him, only that they cheated."

"I am glad to be rid of Glozelle. And Sopespian especially," Peter said quietly.

"Caspian will take care of it," Lucy assured them. "Along with Glenstorm and Trumpkin and—oh, Aslan help them if they think that they can cross Reepicheep…"

The others laughed weakly.

"You don't think he misses them, do you?" Lucy continued. "Caspian, I mean. You don't think he misses Miraz and Prunaprismia?"

"I wouldn't miss someone who tried to kill me," Edmund growled, his brow furrowing in anger as he was reminded of the White Witch. He shuddered briefly and nabbed a tuber, swallowing it promptly and resuming his fierce expression.

"It's better this way," Peter decided. "Revenge always ends badly."

"Are we all finished?" Susan asked, looking with some dismay at the nearly empty cloth. They had all eaten while they talked, but Ed had easily taken most of the food for himself.

"Looks like it." Peter stuffed a roll into his mouth, shook the crumbs from the cloth, wadded it up and packed it back into his saddlebag. "Let's head out."

Their bellies (mostly) full and their spirits refreshed, the siblings readied their horses. Lucy had put one foot in her stirrup when her side suddenly began to ache. Before she knew it she had tumbled to the ground and begun to retch violently. Xanthus shied and she was caught in the flurry of hooves.

"Lucy? Lucy!" Susan shrieked, rushing to her side. Lucy felt herself being rolled over and checked for damage. She looked up into Susan's concerned eyes.

"Are you all right?" Susan asked. "Oh, love, you've been sick."

Lucy nodded weakly, feeling as though she would soon be again. Susan pulled her hair aside just in time.

"Peter, Edmund," Susan called shrilly. Lucy's head hurt at the sound.

"What's this?" Peter asked, looking at his younger sister with evident worry.

"We need to go back," Susan replied matter-of-factly. "Now, if you please."

"No, I—"

"Yes," Susan said firmly. "We can go another day, when you're feeling better."

"I'll be all right," Lucy managed.

Peter's strong arms lifted her up onto Xanthus, and he swung up behind her, steadying her.

"Go on," she mumbled. "Please. I want… the Cair—"

Her eyes closed for an instant as she tried to reorient herself with her surroundings, and she could hear Edmund's voice.

"Pete, if she wants us to…"

"I'll get her back all right," Susan was promising. "Go ahead. We can manage."

Peter was quiet, thoughtful. Finally, he relented, "Only if I allow the dryads to accompany you."

"Fine."

He dismounted, and Lucy swayed dizzily for a moment. She had thought emptying her stomach would make her feel better, but she was only feeling worse. Her eyes fluttered open, then closed again. She felt Susan climb up behind her and was glad of Xanthus' strength and the mare's obedience. Feeling slightly delirious, she pitched forward onto the horse's neck, only restrained by Susan's light arms around her waist.

"We'll be back in a few days," Edmund said. "Send word through the scouts."

"Lucy will be all right," Susan replied decisively. "Nothing some rest can't cure. Probably just excited, that's all."

Lucy could just hear Peter and Edmund's mounts pounding away into the distance before she slumped over in a dead faint.


	6. The Reconstruction

**The Scarlet Age**

A Chronicles of Narnia Fanfiction

by hairsprayheart

Chapter Five: The Reconstruction

_"Wait, your Majesty, where are you going?"_

_"There's ...something I have to take care of. I'll be in the next wing if you need me. If –anything – happens, give her this."_

The voices sounded faint and faraway. Lucy was only barely awake enough to make them out. She forced herself to open her eyes, and sorely regretted it, for as soon as she did so she began to choke on something being poured between her lips. She swallowed, kicking out in a semi-conscious attempt to defend herself, before waking fully and daring to open her mouth.

"Susan?" she spluttered, more angry than confused.

"Oh, ah... It's me," Trumpkin said, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. He had leapt to his feet to escape her thrashing limbs. With his other hand he replaced something on the dresser - her cordial. "Sorry if I... Well, it's good to see you feeling better, your Majesty," he concluded finally.

Sitting up, Lucy threw her arms around the startled Dwarf. "Thank you for taking care of me."

"T'was nothin' I did," was the honest reply. "This little thing here... Susan said it might help— oh, flasks and fiddles, I don't suppose I'm making any sense."

"Not really," Lucy said, grinning all the same. "You're very sweet, Trumpkin."

"You saved my life with the same. 'Bout time I returned the favor."

Lucy took his chubby, calloused hand into her own soft and slender one and gave it a quick, reassuring squeeze. None of them had forgotten the failed raid, or how glad they were that Trumpkin had not been another one of its many victims after falling from a Telmarine tower. His recovery had only been because of Lucy's cordial - and the mercy of Aslan.

"We help each other, then."

"Partners," Trumpkin offered, with a nice and rather uncharacteristic smile.

"Friends," Lucy corrected him.

Trumpkin withdrew his hand gently and gave a little huff of embarrassment.

"I'm not used to this sort of thing," the Dwarf admitted. "Little girls, that is."

"Nonsense! You're wonderful. In fact, I am feeling a great deal better."

It was true. She felt completely recovered from whatever mysterious illness it was that she had suffered from - the nausea, dizziness, and ache had all disappeared. As she said this, Lucy pushed back her comforter and stood. When Trumpkin politely turned away, she realized that Susan had dressed her in a nightie.

"Oh, would you mind terribly sending someone to tell Peter and Edmund I'm all right? They mustn't worry," she said, giving the Dwarf a chance to escape.

"Of course." Trumpkin was happy to oblige. "I don't suppose you'll need anything else from your regent?"

"I don't need anything from my regent," Lucy said, "but I would enjoy a walk later with my dear little friend."

He gave her a little smile.

"I would, but I daresay your royal sister would have my head if I let you outside so soon after..."

Lucy half-smiled, realizing this was true. "After what?"

Trumpkin shifted uncomfortably, then looked her in the eye.

"...After you were poisoned."

* * *

Reepicheep paced the length of the table at which Silveroot sat, slapping the butt of his rapier against his miniscule palm and gazing at the Dryad unflinchingly. He had been charged with (or perhaps _allowed_ to proceed with) questioning the castle staff accused of poisoning the young Queen - namely, the cooks, of whom Silveroot was head.

"Where were you on the day of yesterday?"

The Dryad shifted, her leafy hair rustling as she did so. "I was here, working in the kitchen," she replied simply, her neutral tone betraying neither fear nor anger.

Reepicheep narrowed his beady eyes at her.

"I shall take no cheek from you, Dryad," he growled, waving the sword threateningly before her nose. "I only want answers."

"I wasn't—" Silveroot protested, but the glare that the Mouse leveled at her silenced her.

"Tell me - and tell me honestly, because my whiskers know a lie and my blade the truth - did you make an attempt on her Majesty Queen Lucy's life?"

Silveroot stiffened.

"I would never do such a thing," she said. Sadness and hurt crept into her tone as she was so accused. "I love the Queen just as you do - I have fought with them, served them—"

Reepicheep interrupted: "And have you ever served them something poisoned? As in, for a luncheon this past afternoon?"

"I did not," Silveroot replied indignantly. "As I have been telling you for the past two hours."

"I will ask for a lifetime and a half if that is what it takes to seek justice," the Mouse retorted.

"Well then, you had better look elsewhere, because you have a whole kingdom to go through and your whiskers have not - er - ratted me out yet."

"Oh ho!" Reepicheep crowed, planting the tip of his rapier on the table and banging it. "An insult! I'll have you know I am not a rat but a Mouse, and don't forget it!"

The Dryad gave a long-suffering sigh. "I am merely trying to help. If I may, I would point out the fact that a Telmarine is much more likely to desire that harm would come to one of the Sovereigns than one of their own faithful subjects."

The Mouse paused, his whiskers twitching excitedly.

"You are correct, Dryad," he conceded. "My expertise must have led you to this conclusion."

The Dryad hid a scoff with a sneeze (which was not altogether convincing because, as you know, trees cannot be allergic to themselves).

"I should not be wasting my time here with you while the perpetrator may be getting away," Reepicheep announced, returning his sword to its sheath with a dull, metallic sound and waving at her dismissively. "You may go."

Silveroot stood - she looked quite superior to the proud little Mouse - and folded her long, twining arms over her chest. "This is my kitchen, and you have a kingdom to search. _You_ ought to go."

Grumbling under his breath, Reepicheep hopped down from the table with as much dignity as he could muster.

"The Queen's honor shall be defended!" he declared, scurrying away.

Silveroot chuckled as she watched him go. Though he was a rather funny creature, she knew that she could trust the Mouse to keep his word. If that meant he had to question every innocent Narnian, such as herself, to do so, so be it. She could suffer for the sake of her kings and queens.

* * *

  
"Ahem."

At the sight of Queen Susan standing in his doorway, Caspian stood abruptly. His clothes were rumpled, his hair tousled, his crown askew, and papers scattered across his desk. Susan felt a pang of sympathy and was almost sorry for interrupting him. (Though he said he could manage without Peter and Edmund, it was clearly a struggle).

"Your Majesty," he addressed her. "I trust Queen Lucy is feeling well?"

"Not really," Susan confessed. "Trumpkin was still with her, last I looked."

Caspian would have smiled at the Dwarf's loyalty, but could not bring himself to.

"It is my fault she is ill, I fear," he said quietly. "If anything were to happen..."

"It is not your fault," Susan was quick to assure him.

Her anger at him had internalized, and she hoped to make it up to him for being so unjustly cruel.

"It is always someone's."

"If anything, it is mine."

She could feel the heat that radiated from his shoulder when she placed her hand there.

"We are not talking about Lucy anymore, are we?"

"I suppose not." Caspian inhaled deeply, as if preparing himself to charge into battle - he very well may have been.

"I suppose I have not exactly done my duty as a queen these past few days," Susan said, choosing her words carefully.

"Nonsense. You have been wonderful. It is I who have been shirking my duties."

Susan smiled slightly at his gentlemanly insistence.

"Thanks," she murmured. "But no one hardly expects you to. You've barely been king a week. I've had years."

"Not as a king, milady, but as your friend," Caspian amended, very softly.

"Oh." Susan blinked. "After the way I have treated you, I would not expect that of you, either."

"You have been nothing but kind to me," Caspian said, a little too fiercely. He paused for a moment. "Too kind, perhaps."

Susan watched him. "I fear it is quite the other way around," she sighed. "You have been far too kind to me."

"I have been a poor friend and a worse leader," Caspian replied.

"Well," Susan offered diplomatically, "perhaps I can help you with that."

Gently, she moved him aside and began organizing his desk into neat little piles. He did nothing to stop her, and she did not mind. When all the papers were sorted, it would be easier for him to deal with them.

"Take a seat," she directed, not unkindly, and he obeyed. "Now, these are the petitions. They are letters – comments, complaints, and the like – from your people. It would be best to answer them yourself but if you can't, well..."

She trailed off, letting him finish the sentence for himself.

"And these" – she gestured to another stack – "are notes from your lords, suggestions on how to improve the kingdom, etcetera, etcetera." She gave him a rueful smile. "You don't have to pay as much attention to those, if you don't want to."

Caspian returned the smile weakly.

"Thank you, Queen Susan," he said. "Your helpfulness is much appreciated."

Susan sighed. "You know, you needn't be so formal with me, Caspian."

"Of course not." Even so, Caspian had not relaxed his stiff posture. At least he had not finished with _Your Majesty_ again. Susan secretly hated these titles – always pushing them away, elevating them, into something that they really weren't. They sounded so old and dull and lifeless.

"Perhaps I shall be able to make myself more useful now that my royal brothers are away."

"I would like that very much," Caspian said, with a very small smile.

And just like that, Susan had rebuilt her friendship with Caspian. The fight – which now seemed so silly – was over as easily as it had begun (for it had really been one-sided). Carefully, she had to place one more brick on top of this little house…

"I would just like to apologize," she said, her breath coming out all in a rush, "for my recent behavior."

"It's quite all right—"

"No. It really isn't," Susan interrupted. "I was struggling with something and I took it out on you. It was unfair, and unjust, and… I'm sorry."

Caspian nodded once. "Are… are you still struggling?"

Surprised, Susan looked at him.

"A little bit, yes," she admitted slowly. "But not as badly."

"Ah. Good. …Well, I suppose I'll see you tomorrow then…"

"If you ever need my help, just call me," Susan said, with a bit of a silly grin.

"I will." Caspian grinned.

"I know."

She began to back away, and out of the room.

"Susan."

Her face flushing at the way he addressed her by only her first name, she turned more quickly than she intended, and found that she was standing nearly nose-to-nose with him. She was shocked – but nonetheless pleased – when neither of them made a move to get out of the other's way. Caspian's eyes searched hers.

"The something that you were struggling with… is it me?"

She turned away, her eyes fluttering closed. After hurting him, she had might as well be honest. "Yes."

His face was blank. A muscle jumped in his jaw, once, and then he nodded jerkily. He moved to sit back down in his chair, and Susan was too frozen in place by her own audacity to leave.

"At least that explains it," he mumbled.

"What?" Susan asked, nervously.

"Why Lucy's been so giddy."

Without meaning to, Susan laughed. When Caspian began to laugh as well, she relaxed a bit more. For a moment, they just laughed – laughed for laughter's sake – until they ached. Winded, Susan seated herself in the large lounging chair to catch her breath.

"That's a relief," she gasped.

Caspian's eyes glimmered happily. "Knowing that I feel the same way about you as you feel about me?"

"I meant getting to sit down, you great oaf!" Susan teased him, laughing all the harder.

It was hard to say whether their cheeks were more flushed from embarrassment or laughter. They almost did not notice when someone entered the room.

"What's going on in here?" Lucy demanded, her fists on her hips.

"Lucy! You're all right!" Susan stood to embrace her, deciding not to mention that she had very nearly forgotten about her poor, sick sister. "Thank the Lion."

Lucy looked hard at Susan, then at Caspian, then back at Susan. Then she beamed.

"I _told_ you that you two fancied each other."

"I think the poison has gone to your head, Lu," Susan said, with quite a serious face. When the younger queen took an expression of severe disappointment, she grinned. "I'm only joking!"

"What a terrible thing to joke about," Lucy pouted. Susan looked about to apologize when she smiled too. "Unless you have a handy-dandy cordial."

Susan rolled her eyes, though good-naturedly. "It _has_ gone to your head."

"Get out of here, you two," Caspian scolded half-heartedly, smiling widely. "I have work to do."

"I can help," Susan offered, a little shyly.

"Me too," Lucy joined in. "I'm as right as rain, according to the healers."

"Very good," Caspian said. "I was hoping you'd offer."

With a cheeky smile, Narnia's newest king put his fellow sovereigns to work.

* * *

  
"Well, here we are," Peter announced. "Cair Paravel."

"Or what's left of it, anyway," Edmund murmured, looking upon the ruins in dismay.

Peter sighed.

"D'you think Lucy's all right?"

With a shrug, Edmund dismounted neatly. "With Su fussing over her, she's probably only sick of the attention." He ground-tied his horse. "Stop worrying."

"I suppose it would be a right waste to ride out here for nothing," Peter muttered.

Edmund knelt, running his fingers through the soil. "Still pretty fertile. The orchards are still here, I wager."

Peter nodded his assent to the idea. "After what happened to Lu, we can't risk eating anything packed for us."

As he stood, brushing the dirt from himself, Edmund shook his head.

"We all ate the same food. There's no reason that she would be affected and none of the rest of us were."

The brothers trudged up the small hill to the old apple orchards, and as the younger king had predicted, they were not only present but thriving. Edmund hacked through some of the branches with a small knife. With a path cleared, he made his way to a tree and began to shimmy up it.

"I'm a regular ape," he exclaimed. (If that hadn't been an invitation for a good teasing, nothing was, but for some reason, Peter ignored it.)

It was much easier to climb trees here than it had been in England. Though, of course, he was more muscular here. And bigger, if only by a little. He had thought he would lose the ability, but it was still there.

Peter was quiet, and rolling his eyes, Edmund picked an apple that looked to be ripe and chucked it at his older brother's head.

"Ow!" Peter cried, ducking belatedly as the apple found its mark. "By the Lion's mane, Ed!"

"Stop being so serious," Edmund chided. Here they were, alone and free for a rare moment of their royal duties, and barely enjoying it.

He slid down from the tree and landed with a solid thump on the ground, apples falling down around him. He nabbed one and shined it on his shirt. He took a bite of it and let the juice dribble down his chin, knowing Susan was not here to scold him. He smiled impishly, but his brother was clearly not amused.

"This _is_ serious," he was admonished. "Someone is trying to hurt us, Edmund. And until we find out who, and why, the Narnians and the Telmarines cannot live in peace."

"All the more reason to get started," Edmund said. "We'd be safer here."

Peter frowned. "We've never been ones to just run and hide when things got hard for us. Escaping the danger won't get rid of it. You know that, Edmund."

Edmund's face went stony. He turned away sharply, tossing the apple to the ground with more force than necessary.

"Oh, _grow up_," Peter hissed. "You know very well that's not what I meant."

"_Grow up_? Well, gee, big brother, don't you think I would if I could? Not all of us can be like you."

Peter looked surprised. "What do you—"

"This whole thing has just been for you to show off how bloody _magnificent_ you are," Edmund swore spittingly.

Peter looked thunderous, but Edmund put up a hand.

"My apologies, brother. If we fight amongst ourselves so mercilessly it is not a wonder that war looms."

Surprised, the elder king looked at the younger one.

"You _are_ grown up," Peter said simply. "And you are right." He sighed. "About everything."

"Not right. Just angry," Edmund corrected. "Not at you - at the situation. I'm worried about Lucy too. I suppose one of us had to be the strong one; I was scared when you weren't."

Peter nodded silently, and the brothers enjoyed a good hug.

"Before we do anything else, there's something we need to do first."

Edmund knew what his brother meant without him saying it. The two of them pushed out of the orchard and began roaming around the ruins.

"Right here," Peter said quietly, and the two of them knelt simultaneously. They closed their eyes and placed their hands on the remaining stone floor, where the soft carpet had been worn away and the walls that had once enclosed the area had crumbled. Bowed before the Lion, they beseeched him.

"Aslan, we acknowledge and thank you for your might and mercy," Peter began.

"May you reign over Narnia forever and ever," Edmund murmured. "May every creature, animal, man and woman know and seek you."

He could feel Peter trembling beside him.

"If it be your will, protect our family and our people."

"As you love us and we love each other, forgive us, and keep us, O Great Lion," Edmund added thickly.

They concluded in unison: "For your honor and glory we pray, amen."

They looked up at each other, and each saw the tears streaming down the other's cheeks. They hadn't said that prayer as a family for over a year. This was a start.

Sheepishly, and rather futilely, Edmund swiped as his cheeks with the back of his hand. He was ashamed of himself, but not for crying. He was comforted by his brother rubbing his shoulder as they embraced.

"Look," Peter said suddenly. "It's still there."

Releasing each other, the brothers looked at the stone slab in front of them. All of the surrounding stones were disintegrated, but there it was: the massive paw print, left to them for eternity by Aslan himself as a reminder of his constant presence.

Edmund ran his fingers up and down the indentation in the stone - it was smooth and warm. He closed his eyes, and in the darkness, he could again see the Den where he and his siblings had gone constantly to pray, find peace, and feel Aslan's presence. The luxurious carpeting, flickering candles and intricate tapestries had all been centered around that paw print.

"Aslan," Edmund whispered, fresh tears springing to his eyes as he remembered what had once been. "Oh, Aslan."

Edmund was grateful to his brother for leaving him by himself for a moment to cry. It wasn't so much that Edmund missed Cair Paravel or even the "Old Narnia", he just missed the closeness he had felt to his family, and to Aslan. There was some faint hope in him that if Cair Paravel was rebuilt, his faith and the traditions that accompanied it could also be revived. He remembered fondly the Den, and Christmas, and, most especially, Cracking Day. With a sniffle, he got to his feet and joined his brother in tending to the horses. (He fed them each a piece of apple, to which he was thanked with appreciative slobber.)

"Should we head back?" he asked.

Peter gave his horse a gentle pat, then turned and smiled.

"No, brother - we need to have a castle fit for Lucy when she is well. And if Su has the cordial, we'd better start planning."

Edmund grinned, then pulled a long scroll from his saddlebag. "I already have."

At his brother's proud beam of approval, Edmund felt himself weaken with admiration and love. For Peter, for Aslan, for Narnia.

He found that building things was much more fun than tearing them down.

* * *

  
AN: I'm sorry for being so mean. I don't intend for them to fight all the time, it just happens. Good thing Aslan can fix everything, eh?

Regarding Susan, Caspian, Lucy, Trumpkin, and all of their crazy emotions: I'm having far too much fun with this.

Regarding the Den: a little church-type thing in old Cair Paravel. Rather heavily influenced by elecktrum's brilliant Lion Chapel. (All right, VERY heavily influenced.)

Regarding "Cracking Day": my made-up, Narnian version of Easter. Consists of the usual feasting, along with taking a hammer to stone blocks to symbolize the _cracking_ of the Stone Table. I shall elaborate on this later in the form of a oneshot.

Regarding Reepicheep: He's awesome. 'Nuff said.


	7. The Retribution

**The Scarlet Age**

A _Chronicles of Narnia_ Fanfiction

by hairsprayheart

Chapter Six: The Retribution

Blinking in the blinding sunlight, Caspian swept sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He swung the mallet again, wincing as it connected with something solid and sent a painful vibration up his arm and into his shoulder.

Inhaling sharply, he cradled his arm. Though it had mostly recovered after being shot by Prunaprisima's cross bow, there was still some lingering pain when he worked it too hard. And working for three hours straight – after a morning of training – was most certainly working too hard.

It had been a week that Caspian was king. And if he had any doubt before, the celebrations were finished, ready to be replaced with more serious fare. Surely, there would be fun, though accompanied by responsibilities. But if Narnia's new rulers got any sort of grace period before their real work started, it was now over, as Caspian knew well.

In the morning, he had held council with the lords for the first time. That alone had been a trying experience, and if he could have he would have ended his day with its adjournment. After all, he'd had to withstand two hours of training with Glenstorm prior. But after this, he had to send out messengers to the kings Peter and Edmund, study with Professor Cornelius, AND train with Glenstorm! To make it worse, the pile of petitions awaited him on his desk, and it was growing. The only thing that buoyed his spirits was spending time with the queens, which, thankfully, he got to do a lot of (as an amateur, he was entitled to considerable instruction time).

That day, in council, the decisions had been made to finalize plans for rebuilding Cair Paravel. As Peter and Edmund had not been present, a party of Gryphons was arranged to deliver the plans to them. Men and beasts alike were also transitioning from Telmarine soldiers to Narnian construction workers.

As he heard the sound of someone loping up from behind him, Caspian realized that he had been standing there for more than a moment, and turned quickly. Pain stabbed through his shoulder.

"Are you all right?"

Caspian stiffened in disbelief. It was Queen Susan. The irony that the girl – woman – who he had been trying to impress all day (actually, for quite some time) was the first one to notice that he had foolishly hurt himself. He clenched his teeth and nodded shortly, ignoring the tears pricking at the back of his eyes and retrieving the mallet with his good hand.

"Oh, I know you better than that," Susan chided him lightly, prying the mallet from his hand and wrapping his arm around her shoulder. "Someone else can build these houses. Come on."

Making no protest, Caspian allowed her to lead him away.

She sat him down on a stump, and they made light conversation as she prepared to bandage his shoulder.

"How is it with you, my Queen?" he asked politely.

Susan rolled up her sleeves grimly. "Despite Reepicheep's brave efforts, there are still no clues as to who it was that poisoned Lucy," she murmured, then gave him a smile that seemed forced. "I'm sorry – I didn't wish to burden you."

Caspian shook his head carefully, in a way that would not move his shoulder.

"Not at all. Your troubles are mine."

Smiling more genuinely, Susan positioned herself behind him to look at his shoulder. With a cold professionalism, she slid his loose tunic over his head, doing her best not to hurt him (and was not completely successful). Caspian could not see her face as his naked back was revealed to her or as she examined his shoulder with a critical eye.

"It's still bothering you, isn't it?"

"Not really," Caspian lied, though he cringed visibly when she prodded his shoulder to find any swelling.

Though it had been fine for most of the Second Battle of Beruna, he assumed that the lack of pain was mostly a result of combat-induced adrenaline. For the past week and a half it had pained him at odd times, and he had not mentioned this to anyone, though Glenstorm had commented on his sluggishness.

"You're overworking yourself," the gentle queen said sympathetically. "Not to worry – Peter and Edmund should be back in a few days."

Caspian sighed. "A few days" was a very long time.

"What choice do I have?" he asked, trying not to sound too miserable – he didn't want Susan to think he was complaining. "Miraz ruined these people's homes, their lives, in order for his own success. Every plank on the Beruna bridge came from someone's house."

Expertly, Susan unrolled a long linen bandage. "You don't have to make up for Miraz's cruelty, Caspian."

In response, he groaned. "But I do have to fix his mistakes."

"Not at your own expense," Susan replied sternly. "You're no good to Narnia beat up and exhausted."

She began to wrap his shoulder, and though it ached dully, Caspian was glad of the attention. He could not lie and say that the fact that it was coming from her did not make it even more pleasurable.

"I'm beginning to think I'm no good to Narnia at all," he muttered, mostly to himself.

Susan stopped abruptly and looked at him. "What do you mean by that?"

"I just…" Caspian trailed off weakly, knowing he would just be chastised if he continued. He did appreciate Susan's admiration, even if he did not think it well-founded.

"You're doing splendidly," Susan said firmly, bracing herself by placing her hand on his other shoulder as she finished wrapping the other. He stood shakily and she smiled at him. "Really."

"I thank you," Caspian said, rolling his shoulder experimentally, "for all of these kindnesses."

"It is my pleasure."

They stood awkwardly for a moment.

"I should get back," Caspian said finally.

"I suppose so."

His gaze lingered for what was perhaps a moment too long on Susan, and he looked away as a hot flush lit her cheeks.

"Good-bye," Susan said curtly, and was away in a rustling of long skirts.

Disappointed, Caspian trudged back to the beginnings of the little house he was building. The young girl who would eventually be residing there eyed him warily, then ran off to hide behind her mother when he smiled at her.

The little family left him to his work. He hefted the mallet, and when it glinted in the sun Susan's face flashed before his eyes. _Idiot_, he thought. _Couldn't even come up with anything intelligent to say_. He grumbled and threw the mallet. When it landed on his toe, and he hopped around madly, waiting for the pain to subside, he supposed that he deserved it.

* * *

  
"Your Majesties! Your Majesties!"

Shading his face from the sun with his hand, Peter looked up at the great Gryphon and smiled fleetingly.

"Greetings, Longwing. What news have you?"

With a beating of wings, the beast landed. Edmund ran over, his sword knocking his legs awkwardly, to meet them, and Longwing held out his massive paw in a way that was almost delicately. Taking great care to avoid its claws, Peter untied the thick leather strap it carried and hastily unrolled the scroll.

"Lucy – she's all right," he gasped. "Thank Aslan."

Edmund pushed in to get a look for himself. "Well, what did you expect?" He grinned. "Good old Lu."

"Thank you, good Gryphon," Peter said, giving the parchment another cursory glance and then handing it to his brother.

Longwing nodded. "Is there anything you would like me to take back, sire?"

Peter looked back at the empty ruins, where they had lived on apples and fresh water and fish.

"Provisions would be much appreciated," he answered. "And supplies."

"They're on their way," Longwing said proudly.

"Very good." Peter looked pleased. "Please send my thanks to our royal sisters."

"Of course, your Majesty."

Edmund, who had wandered off a few steps while reading the letter, returned, his mouth a sharp line.

"Peter, Susan says that they've started the house project."

"What?" Peter snatched the scroll and read it again, more thoroughly this time, before re-rolling it and jamming it into his saddlebag. "There cannot be enough lumber in Narnia to rebuild Cair Paravel and hundreds of homes simultaneously."

"Not dead lumber, anyway," Edmund added in dismay.

"These foolish lords," Peter hissed, stamping his foot rather savagely. "They know nothing of Narnia, only of their own selfish desires."

"Well," Ed put in, trying to be helpful, "they don't really have anything to gain from building houses or especially the Cair. They care nothing for the respect of their people—"

Peter frowned. "If the Cair is built, they get to have the castle for themselves, and more influence on Caspian. And if they manage to kill the trees…" He shook his head, not wishing to voice his concerns.

The Gryphon was beginning to look rather nervous, or at the very least conflicted. If Peter's words were heard by anyone else, they would be considered traitorous to the Telmarine crown.

"If I may, sire," Longwing said tentatively, "I would suggest returning home."

Peter exhaled wearily, his shoulders sagging. "I mustn't. Our family needs this retreat. Who knows what will happen in the coming days."

"Only Aslan," Edmund mumbled.

"I shall send word to their Highnesses that you are well," Longwing offered.

The High King waved his hand as consent, and Longwing soared away, eager to be away.

"I can't believe it," Peter groused, beginning to pace.

"Maybe Caspian's behind this," Ed suggested hopefully.

"If he is, it doesn't improve the situation."

Edmund bit his lip, knowing he had to choose his words carefully.

"Pete, are you still mad at him?"

"Who?"

"Caspian."

"Of course not," Peter said, though not convincingly.

"Because I've been watching him," Edmund said haltingly, "and I don't think Susan's being quite truthful about their relationship."

"What?" Peter hissed. "I shall have his head—"

"Peace, brother," Edmund hurriedly amended, "I only meant that she cares for him more than she admits. So perhaps his affection for her is not to be repressed."

Peter pressed his lips together. "If that is the case, then it is of even greater importance that it _is_ repressed."

"If you're only rebuilding the Cair so that we can protect Susan from him, the trees would be better spent on housing for the homeless," Edmund said flatly. "But if that is not the case, then I apologize."

Edmund watched as his brother's hand tightened on the hilt of Rhindon.

"I only say these things for the sake of our sister."

Though his eyes flashed dangerously, Peter's voice was calm. "It is for her sake that I wish to sequester her."

With a short laugh, Edmund countered, "Good luck in that venture, brother mine."

"I expect your help with it," Peter replied smoothly.

"Peter," Edmund said exasperatedly, "Cair Paravel is a home, a symbol – not a jail."

"A fortress," Peter supplied.

"Not against a fellow king, it isn't."

Peter raised his hand. "Please, just listen to me. I have not been wrong often."

Wisely, Edmund held his tongue. He was grateful for the interruption when the remaining Gryphons descended, carrying lumber and other supplies as well as some food and water skins.

"The Telmarines will arrive tomorrow to begin work," Peter said, his voice carrying a finality that irked Edmund, "and you will be helping them."

The conversation ended, Edmund retreated to the River to wash. He did not think it fair that the Telmarine men should work on a lavish castle when their own homes were yet debris, but he did not dare to defy his brother's wishes. After all, Peter _was_ the High King, and whether right or wrong, he still held power over the rest of them. As he looked at himself in the shallows, he was slightly ashamed of the weary, dirtied face that stared back at him. He struck the water and lifted it to splash his cheeks. He appreciated the strange stinging sensation on his face.

Feeling somewhat refreshed, if not at least a little cleaner, he trudged back to "camp". He froze when he saw the large, still form of a Gryphon on the ground. Then he began to run.

"What happened?" he cried, falling to his knees beside the creature.

"I-I don't know," Peter stammered, shocked. "Quickshaft…"

The Gryphon was breathing, but rather shallowly. His claws spread in a futile attempt to lessen the pain. The other Gryphons were standing a ways off, looking on nervously but giving their companion his space.

"I'll… be… all – right," he panted.

"Send for help," Peter directed. "Go. Go!"

Longwing's followers took to the skies, crying fearfully. Edmund stroked Quickshaft's tawny feathers, reminding him that someone was there with him as his eyes began to glaze over. "Stay with us, good Gryphon," he fairly pleaded.

"Aslan," Quickshaft gasped.

Edmund blanched and risked a glance at his brother. Peter was praying, his eyes shut tightly and his mouth moving.

He looked back at the Gryphon. His eyes had closed and he was still.

"No," Edmund whispered. He pressed his hand to Quickshaft's breast, and felt a feeble heartbeat.

Peter stood beside him, bitter tears sluicing down his face, while another Gryphon wheeled overhead, holding a vigil while they waited for help. All felt powerless to stop the cruel, cold fingers of death. They could only hope.

* * *

  
Caspian was wandering the castle halls. He had finished his lesson with Professor Cornelius moments earlier (though he had assumed his schooling would end now that he was a king, he had been frequently reminded that those who ignored the past were doomed to repeat it – which he certainly did not wish upon himself). Now he told himself that he was just going for a stroll, but his subconscious admittedly had a decided direction.

At this time of day, Lucy and Susan had high tea together, when they could afford to spare any time. Silveroot would be setting out the saucers just now. They had invited him to join them numerous occasions, but he had always declined politely. And though it would be somewhat embarrassing to change his mind, he went ahead anyway. His legs seemed to be moving of their own volition, but the rest of him did not entirely mind.

Passing the sleeping quarters, he was surprised to see that one of the bedroom doors – the queens' – was ajar. Fearing for their safety, he rushed in. To his relief, Lucy, though alone, was on her knees at her bedside, looking perfectly calm and safe.

"Hullo, Caspian," she greeted him.

"Queen Lucy. My apologies for interrupting."

She patted the ground at her side, and he knelt obediently. Though he was unsure of what he was doing, she did not seem to mind his presence.

"If I may ask, what are you praying for?" he whispered.

She smiled calmly. "Discernment."

"I see."

"Peter and Edmund mustn't fell any Trees," she explained, "only trees."

Nodding as though he understood, Caspian closed his eyes and clasped his hands respectfully, allowing Lucy to finish her prayers in peace. In the silence that ensued, he began to pray himself, hoping that he was not being too presumptuous:

_Oh, Aslan, please forgive me and strengthen me. And if it is your will, please let Queen Susan—_

"Queen Lucy!" It was Longwing. He had careened into the tiny room breathlessly. "Your cordial is needed!"

Without hesitation, Lucy strapped the belt containing the diamond flask around the Gryphon's ankle. When he had left, she closed her eyes once again, and a single tear slipped onto her cheek. Caspian's heart wrenched for the young queen and whoever it was that needed her healing cordial.

Listless, he stalked out to the courtyard. He was met with the stench of rotting flesh.

"What is going here?" he demanded, surveying the scene and wrinkling his nose in disgust. Everywhere he looked, dark fabric fluttered in the breeze, and when one lifted to show bloodied fur, he turned away.

"We had to clear the fields so that the men could march, your Majesty," he was told meekly.

"Could they not march elsewhere?" he roared. Without the completed ford, travel was long and difficult, but not taxing enough to necessitate disturbing the dead.

"Ask Lord Gregoire," the man whimpered.

Caspian clenched his fists. Though the man's cowardliness angered him, he was not surprised. Lord Gregoire had been a thorn in his side ever since he had been crowned. He fervently desired to remove him from council, but he feared the wrath of the lord's companions if he did so. He knew that Gregoire desired few things more than to be rid of the Narnians, and did everything he could to remind Caspian of this. He suspected that this was just a way for the bitter lord to express the blame he placed upon Caspian for the death of Telmarines at Narnian hands.

"Get out of my sight," Caspian hissed, more harshly than he intended.

The man obeyed immediately, and Caspian placed his fingers on his temples and rubbed them in small circles. He was getting a beastly headache, and it was not just the horrid smell that stifled the air. This was just as well, he thought grimly. These people had all died because of him. It was time to come to term with it. For everything, there was a consequence, and he would not be allowed to escape unscathed after so many lives had been lost on his account. He was at once ashamed for complaining so dreadfully about his shoulder. While many others were dead, he was lucky that he could feel at all.

In a daze, Caspian wandered through the rows and rows of the dead. Nausea clenched coldly in his stomach, but he forced himself onwards. Already Telmarine women had begun to gather, and the sounds of their grief broke their king's heart.

It was a long list, the people that had died. The mourners all looked alike, and the bodies, covered in dark tarps to spare the grieving the sight of their ravaged countrymen, could not be told apart as they lay together in a shapeless mass. Whether one of the casualties had fought for the Old Narnians or the Telmarines could not be said. The general and the trumpeter were laid alongside each other, placed indiscriminately. Death was most certainly the great equalizer.

Though he had needed to see this – to remind himself that being a king was not all flowers and fun, that war was not a game – he did not wish for the sight of it to be burdened upon anyone else. The men that had not been sent to work on rebuilding Cair Paravel had taken upon themselves to begin a mass funeral. It would be difficult for them to bury their own, he knew, and even harder for them to bury the Narnians for whom their hatred had once again flared.

Narnians had also begun to gather. They worked side by side with the Telmarines, and though anger burned in each of their hearts, they set aside their differences, for at least this moment, to do what had to be done. Though they still blamed each other for all of the deaths, there was nothing to do now but deal with what they still had control over. Caspian observed with fleeting satisfaction that they were working together, for once. He would have smiled if he had not been so grief-stricken.

At one point, not so long ago, he had seen the Telmarines as heartless. But as he watched them mourn, he realized that they were not. They were a strong, fierce, and proud people. The women were often left alone, as their husbands were sent on long military campaigns by Miraz, and left to support their children on their own. They did not deserve the fate Miraz had doomed them to, and Caspian knew it was up to him to fix this. The men that were left after the battle were even now miles away, and their wives and children were alone again, indefinitely. While he watched his people be placed in the Narnian soil, Caspian realized that things had to change.

When the last man and beast had been buried, he turned away and staggered off to be alone. He retched over and over again, his body trying to purge itself of its guilt, and the lingering smell of death. After he wiped his mouth, he retired to his study and began writing a letter to his fellow kings.

* * *

  
Peter was not sure how Quickshaft had managed to cling to life for so long, but he was certainly not complaining. Every rasping breath he took was a miracle. When at long last he saw the shadow of an approaching Gryphon, he nearly began jumping up and down. Longwing swooped down and Peter hastily untied the cordial from his ankle, pouring two drops down the dying Gryphon's beak. They all watched life return to Quickshaft, and Peter began crying anew.

"Good old Lu," Edmund grinned, clapping his brother on the back.

"Aslan be praised," Peter said in agreement. "And Father Christmas, for the cordial."

"Thank you, thank you, your Majesties," Quickshaft said, after he had recovered enough to speak. "I cannot thank you enough."

"I am to blame for this," Peter murmured. "There have been too many frights, too many deaths…"

"Do not say such things, sire," the Gryphon insisted.

Longwing piped up, "If it is anyone's fault, it is my own, my king, for flying my charges too hard."

Edmund looked around at his companions.

"Something's not right here," he mused. "First Lucy, then you. Is it possible that there is a connection?"

"I had feared and hoped that we were the only targets," Peter confessed softly. "But it appears as though every Narnian is being targeted."

"I don't understand," Quickshaft sighed.

"Our hopes for a united Narnia have not yet been realized," he growled. "This is the Telmarines' doing."

"Let's not be hasty," Edmund hurried. "We aren't even sure that Lucy and Quickshaft are victims of the same poison, let alone the same person."

Peter shook his head, disgusted. "What else could it be?"

"For now, your Majesty, I would suggest keeping an open mind and a guarded back," Longwing suggested wisely.

"Whoever is doing this wants revenge, I wager," Peter said, his voice steel. His eyes flashed - already the warrior king of old Narnia had begun plans for defense of his family and his people. "They shall not succeed."


	8. The Regrowth

**The Scarlet Age**

A _Chronicles of Narnia_ Fanfiction

by hairsprayheart

Chapter Seven: The Regrowth

* * *

  
AN: I hope the lack of an update for a few weeks is made up for with this lengthy chapter. It is pretty emotionally intense, and moves at a fast pace, so if that is all right with you, please read on! Warning: movieverse Suspian ensues. (Oh boy, does it.)

* * *

  
The shadow of a Gryphon wheeling overhead darkened the ground at the sibling Kings' feet. Alerted to his presence, they moved aside so that the great beast could land. It was an unfamiliar Gryphon – Quickshaft was still recovering from the effects of the poisoning, and Longwing had joined the efforts to find out the cause. This one looked exceedingly young, his feathery tufts still downy.

_They really should come up with a better way to give messages_, Peter thought, shaking his head at the humorous sight of the clumsy youngster, _these beasts would better be employed elsewhere_.

"A message from his majesty Caspian the Tenth," the Gryphon said in greeting. Or rather squeaked. He held out his paw, massive and yet disproportionate to the rest of his growing body, and allowed the document tied to it to be removed.

Nodding his thanks, Edmund took the proffered scroll and read it out loud:

_Caspian X, by the gift of Aslan, by election, by prescription, and by conquest, King of the Telmarines (who shall henceforth be known as the _New Narnians_) to High King Peter, High King over all Kings in Narnia, Emperor of the Lone Islands and Lord of Cair Paravel, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion, greeting!_

_In order for your royal sisters, the Queens Susan and Lucy, to be guarded to the utmost, I respectfully request the withdrawal of my men from the premises of the ruins of the castle Cair Paravel. The reconstruction of this ancient and hallowed site must wait until the danger has been cleared and the desires of this malicious being appeased. May the men be returned to their families by suppertime on Seventhday, with a good will._

_Given at our lodging at the castle Tel this VI day of Goodwind in the first year of Caspian Tenth of Narnia.  
_  
Looking unimpressed, Edmund re-rolled the parchment.

"_His_ men?" Peter snorted. "I shall do no such thing. If we cease now, we may not begin again until after Christmas."

"You are excused, Gryphon," Edmund said, with a small smile at the youngling.

"Your majesties," he addressed them, and then flapped away awkwardly.

"If we can keep them here for just a little while longer, then Caspian shall never have to bother with us again," Peter mused.

"How long do you think this'll take?" Edmund asked, surveying his surroundings as he shaded his shining brow with a calloused hand.

Peter reclined against a thick stump. He waved his hand lazily at the troops toiling below. "Less than a sixmonth, I wager."

"A sixmonth? How many men are down there?"

"Oh, all of them," Peter replied, with daunting cheerfulness.

The younger king gave a low whistle.

"_All_ of them?" he repeated incredulously. "No wonder the chap's concerned."

"We need this castle," Peter replied simply, a shadow passing over his face.

Edmund frowned. "You know, we won't be here forever."

"It seems to me like you don't want to be," Peter growled.

Edmund's voice was indifferent, but his words were biting: "It seems to _me_ that in want of the Cair's completion to protect our royal sisters, you have forgotten to do so until then."

Edmund's wit was honed like a blade, and he possessed a tongue both silver enough to persuade the most vicious of foes on a diplomatic visit and sharp enough to command a thousand men to do his bidding. He could also tell jokes, recount tales, and make a point better than any other man or beast in Narnia.

More quietly, he added, "I shall remain here as long as Aslan wills it. There must be a reason we are here."

Wisely, Peter said nothing, as he gazed into the distance and glared at nothing in particular.

Trying to lighten the mood, Edmund stretched. "Oh, what I wouldn't give to have a nice flagon of wine."

"I could use a drink," Peter muttered in agreement.

With that, he got to his feet, with Edmund watching as he made his way down to the river. Edmund was glad that his brother's wrath would not be upon himself. But when Peter stalked off in an opposite direction, clearly intent on releasing it on someone else, this was a good deal worse.

The High King stood over a man who was just bending by his workplace, appearing to have taken a brief respite, and drew himself up to his full height. Though he was probably less intimidating than he had once been - less broad-shouldered and barrel-chested, with only the downy beginnings of facial hair that resulted more from laziness than any real desire for their presence - he was still a force to be reckoned with.

"You think you do not need to earn your wages like everyone else?" Peter snarled, barely able to contain his fury.

The Telmarine worker merely whimpered in response.

As the man fairly cowered before him, Peter's stance softened. The former soldier, mistreated by Miraz, was not the one to blame for his own troubles, and did not deserve such harsh treatment for simply taking a break from the harsh labor he had lifelong been subjected to.

He held out a calloused hand and hauled the surprised man to his feet.

"My apologies for my temper," Peter said, with a rueful smile. "I'm Peter. What do you call yourself?"

The man's mouth opened, but instead of replying, he gurgled and fell to his knees. Peter began shouting and shaking him violently, and Edmund, noticing the disturbance, leapt a felled tree to stop him.

"You'll kill him!" he screamed, coming to pull Peter off what he thought was an unfortune victim of Peter's recent rages.

"I may not have to," Peter said grimly, his initial panic giving way to cool professionalism as he began to strip the man of his clothing. Thick fingers pressed for abnormalities.

White-faced, Edmund watched. With one precise squeeze, Peter brought the Telmarine back to life. The poor man took one ragged breath before retching convulsively.

"You all right, chap?" Peter asked solicitously.

In reply, there was more retching.

"He's bad off," Peter said to his brother shortly. "Send for a healer."

Edmund nodded, but before he went, he murmured, "You know what this means, don't you?"

"Go!" Peter commanded, shoving him forward roughly with one push between the shoulder blades.

Stumbling, Edmund obeyed. But while Peter scrutinized the man, his eyes widened in understanding of his brother's words. If the Telmarines were being poisoned themselves, they weren't the culprits. But if they weren't... who was?

* * *

  
Lucy sat cross-legged in the garden, a book lying open in her lap. She fingered the velvet petals of a Narnian flower absent-mindedly. Narnian wildlife was blooming everywhere – she had spent the day helping to plant new trees (not trees) to replace the ones being cut down elsewhere, and early summer was most certainly upon them. Oh, how she loved the summer, and its festivals and fire boiling dangerously in the blood. Her eyes were on the yellowing pages, but her thoughts were elsewhere.

"Your Majesty?"

Lucy turned quickly to face her would-be assailant, snapping the book shut.

"Hello, Trumpkin," she said, with a small smile.

The Red Dwarf bobbed his head in greeting. "Your royal sister wishes to see you."

"Of course she does," the young Queen grumbled good-naturedly. "And such a beautiful day, too."

Trumpkin rocked back onto his heels awkwardly in the soft soil. "A dress fitting, I believe."

"It's not my fault I'm growing," Lucy declared, "yet I am still being punished."

As she rose to her feet and marched off, mumbling about poking pins and standing for long periods of time, her Dear Little Friend was glad that she was growing. She was lucky to be alive at all.

She would be taller than him soon - well, more than she already was, anyway.

He knelt to peer at the book she had left behind. Nothing Lucy did was careless - he expected that she wanted him to read it.

He settled into the imprint her small, warm body had made and cracked the book open. It smelled musty but slightly sweet at the same time. Surely, it was ancient. Pages and paperweights, but it was heavy, he thought with a grunt as he hefted it into his arms.

_Diary of __Lucy Pevensie_ was written on the first page in a rambling scrawl reminiscent of her fluid movement and easy smile.

He closed the book, curious but embarrassed for it. Why would she want him to read it? She didn't seem like the type of girl to keep a diary. Though, as he had found himself saying quite frequently as of late, he didn't know much at all about little girls.

While he pondered her actions, the Queen in question was giving the elder queen a baleful stare. She had only just been directed towards the fitting room, where a - chambermaid and a Dryad were already fussing over her and paying an unfortunately minor amount of attention to her sister.

Lucy straightened in surprise as she was poked for the first, but most certainly not to be the last, time, and the Dryad began to apologize profusely. (To be perfectly honest, the poor creature's hands were far too wooden for such intricate work, and she can not really be blamed.) Lucy bit back a yelp and reassured her, and work was resumed, only to be halted a few moments later with another wayward needle.

"Oakring, I believe we should make plans for a dress of thicker material. The Centaurs predict a change in the weather," Susan spoke, after the Dryad slipped up a third time.

"Yes, your majesty," was the meek response, and the relieved tree-woman hurried away.

"It is summer, you know," Lucy said, when they were out of hearing range.

Susan smiled impishly. "I didn't say what kind of weather change the stars held."

"Oh," Lucy said, for lack of a better thank-you.

"Here." Susan took her younger sister's hands and helped her down carefully from the platform. "Let me."

Susan plucked the remaining needles from the pincushion and held them between her teeth, weaving them expertly into the fabric.

"Thanks," Lucy said, looking at her reflection in the mirror beside her with surprise. The dress looked decent on her. And it actually covered her ankles and wrists.

Susan nodded and helped Lucy change.

"I didn't know you could do that," Lucy said finally, shifting uncomfortably in her small dress.

"There are a lot of things I can do that people don't expect of me," Susan replied, an edge to her voice that slightly frightened Lucy.

"Well, dressmaking is a useful skill," she quipped.

Susan smiled at her sister, the Gentle Queen once again.

"I should say so. If you plan on growing at this rate much longer, you'll need to learn it yourself."

More solemnly than she intended to, Lucy nodded. She earned a kiss from her sister and then was left alone to the mercies of the Dryad.

When she heard rapid footsteps coming down the hall a moment later, she was expecting an apologetic Dryad, but instead was met with a furious Susan. Caspian was on her heels - he looked apologetic - but Lucy was barely able to notice this because her sister was flapping a piece of parchment in her face.

"I can't even read this," Lucy complained, snatching the paper away and squinting to make out Peter's chickenscratch (though you might expect court calligraphy, you would be disappointed: the High King's handwriting was nearly atrocious enough to be completely illegible).

"Another poisoning," Susan said flatly. "Our guard is being doubled."

"it is only for your safety, my queens," Caspian interjected.

"We can defend ourselves perfectly well," Susan growled, unconsciously reaching for a quiver that wasn't there.

Caspian might have mentioned the fact that he had indeed saved her life before, if he had not been a gentleman. Or a coward.

"Peter is the one who ordered this," he pointed out finally, with a long-suffering sigh. "We must obey the High King."

"Hmph," Susan replied.

"It'll be all right," Lucy comforted her sister. "It's only till he gets back, see? Or... At least, that's what I think he means." She squinted again at the letter. "Anyway, you love being inside. You can teach me how to sew, or bake, or make dresses."

Though this was offered at her own expense, Lucy would not mind being temporarily domesticated if it meant keeping her sister happy.

"Confined. To our chambers," Susan repeated miserably. "Indefinitely!"

"I know," Lucy soothed, though she hated the thought of being cooped up away from her friends and fresh air. "I know."

The anger had faded from Susan's face, but she still looked unhappy. Lucy would have been confused by the lack of thrill at ladylike pastimes her sister had once enjoyed, but then she caught on.

"So we won't see you?" she inquired of Caspian.

"I am afraid not, my queen," he replied, sounding just as dejected as Susan looked.

"Oh, but you're not even a threat," she pouted. "Peter's just being a silly boy."

"He's looking out for your safety," Caspian insisted loyally, though not very enthusiastically.

Susan said nothing then, just moved to retreat to her room. Caspian caught her hand gingerly, then pressed a lingering kiss to it. Though she tried to maintain her regal posture, Lucy noticed that her dignified sister had flushed all over.

"Until we meet again, my queen," he murmured, and then he was gone.

"Susan!" Lucy squealed.

"Oh, shut up," was the irritable reply, though it contrasted with the smug pleasure evident on Susan's face. "He probably does that to every girl."

Lucy just shrugged, knowing that (though of course for different reasons) her love for Caspian grew just as her sister's did.

* * *

  
Caspian believed that this had been the longest day he had ever experienced in his short life. (Well, perhaps not exactly short, though a decade and a half of being ignored and unloved passed with relative speed.) He ran his hand through his hair – a nervous habit he had almost definitely picked up from Peter – and heaved a great sigh. He had been reviewing petitions from enraged Telmarines and Narnians alike for hours now, skipping breakfast even (at the risk of a lecture from Lucy), all for the sake of resolving their petty fighting. All right, perhaps not petty. But he was getting quite tired of it.

He had been seeing Susan daily for the past few weeks, much to his pleasure and surprise. Peter's order of isolation did not seem to deter her from visiting him in his study, and they had become extremely close. Though his affection for her had never wavered, it had grown increasingly strong as they spent hours together, discussing everything from Narnian politics to Spare Oom. She was witty, and beautiful, and he _wanted_ her. He was becoming quite uneasy – you might even say restless – and it was all the Gentle Queen's fault. Her presence was the only thing that kept him sane, though it was driving him to just the opposite at the same time.

Yes, this was indeed the longest day of his life, he thought self-pityingly, placing his arms on his desk and letting his head fall on them in exhaustion. (He was wrong about this, by the way, though it will come up later.) He told himself that he was just resting his over-worked eyes, but he had almost fallen asleep when he heard rapid footsteps coming his way.

His head snapped up, and he was quite relieved to see that the intruder was none other than Queen Susan. She halted at the doorway and observed him with an amused expression. Her arms were crossed and she leaned against the frame, making the faint outline of her other hip protrude slightly through the thin fabric of her dress. Caspian's heart – and thoughts – began to race, in a way that was neither proper nor appropriate. He forced himself to turn back to his work, uttering a soft groan, and Susan shook her head while he began to complain how unfair it was.

"There is a reason they call it a civil _war_," she half-admonished him, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Little did she know that the war between the Narnians and the Telmarines was not what he was referring to, and the last thing on his mind. It was the war that was being waged between his heart and his head. Or rather, his traditional beliefs and his body, racing heart included. Blast his traditional beliefs. And his heart.

"That doesn't make it excusable," Caspian grumbled. What was inexcusable was how beautiful she looked, soft shafts of sunlight falling over her and making her glow, and he could not even touch her. "Don't they know that I have more important things to do than listen to them whine?"

Susan laughed, humorlessly, as her gaze wandered to the window.

"Take me away from here," she said suddenly, urgently. Her voice had a guttural longing within it that was so raw and purely animal that it surprised Caspian.

"I truly wish I could, my queen," he said, exhaling. His heart sank when Susan's shoulders also sagged. "This is torturous, but it is necessary."

The queen straightened, her eyes flashing dangerously. "And I am not?"

"Torturous? Of course," Caspian teased lightly. "Truly, though, your Majesty, I doubt very much I could live without you."

The young king spoke sincerely, and his tired eyes conveyed his pleasure at seeing her. A shudder of happiness at the flattery ran through Susan, strengthening her resolve.

"Take me away," she repeated weakly. "_Please_."

Caspian's gaze lowered, as if it was burdened by guilt, and when it rose once again, Queen Susan was nearly upon him, her elbows propping her up on the desk and her face too close to his.

"As your queen," she growled, her lips grazing his ear as she so easily convinced him, "I command you."

She offered him an easy way out. Her breath was hot on his neck, her absolute _closeness_ undeniable. Caspian hesitated only a millisecond before pushing his chair back from the desk with frightening speed, taking her arm and hustling her out of the room so fast not even the guards questioned him as the pair burst through the door.

They were nearly running through the silent stone corridors, making their escape. Susan was unsure whether to be thrilled or frightened by Caspian's sudden aggression; she settled on both. Wordlessly, he lifted her deftly onto Destrier's broad back, swinging up behind her and jabbing the charger's sides harshly with his heels. They said nothing as they bounced along, bareback, and the wind whipped her hair into his face and he could no longer see, just trusting his instincts. He allowed the horse to slow at Susan's insistence (she had pulled on his mane and was already beginning to make a neat dismount before Caspian fully realized what was going on) and followed Susan deeper into the forest. Her strides were long, almost angry, and he struggled to keep up, forcing branches aside as they went. Their steps became a plea: _Free me. Free me. Free me. _

Frightened geese (Geese?) honked indignantly and hurried to get out of their way. His breath caught in his throat when he realized that Susan was headed straight for the little lake.

Finally, she halted. They had not communicated now for an agonizing twenty minutes. She leaned down to remove her shoes, reached to undo her hair, shimmied out of her cape. The queen looked beautifully bare, the only royal trappings left being the emerald court gown laced snugly up her back. She turned around to look at him, her gaze softening, as she asked silently for help. His eyes narrowed slightly before widening again – a request for confirmation, for permission – and she nodded once, surely, then turned around.

Gingerly, Caspian lifted her waterfall of dark curls and moved them out of them out of the way. She looked over her shoulder at him, briefly, smiling, encouraging him. His fingers trembled as he undid the stays on the back of her dress, and it gradually slipped down her shapely legs – oh, Aslan help him – to lay in a green puddle at her feet.

She took a step away, now in just her intimate underthings. Caspian blushed fiercely, knowing that he should not be looking, but unable to glance away. Was he the first, the only, man to have ever seen this? Seen her? She was stark white against the dark forest in the background, an angel. He cocked his head, confused. Did she want him to follow her? Where was she going? But then she stopped again, as if contemplating something, and Caspian stopped too, being sure to do his part well in this intricate dance he was still learning. She stood in the miry soil, toes wiggling, relishing their newfound freedom. Then she began to run.

He followed her, of course, fumbling to undo his leather jerkin and struggling out of his protective mail as he went. She was really going to do it. The lake was straight ahead – only a few steps more – and she wasn't stopping. Surely they hadn't undressed for no reason, but for some reason he had been so distracted that the prospect of simply going for a swim had somehow eluded him. She could swim, right? …He ran faster.

The thing that startled Caspian the most was how remarkably at _home_ Susan seemed. She shouldn't have, really; in her restrictive corset and flowing petticoat, she looked bulky and out of place, and would not be able to swim well. Or at least, that is what he thought, before she pushed off the edge of the clay bank and disappeared into the swirling darkness. He ripped off his last layer of clothing, a loose linen waistshirt, and dove in after her in just his pants, frightened when he lost sight of her.

But there she was – her lithe body undulating in the murky water, darting through the waving reeds like a fish, her white face shining wetly when her head finally, mercifully, broke the surface. There she was: a limber reed, and untouchable fish, a floating lily. She was magical, adapting to fit her environment with all of her famous grace. If Caspian had ever had the pleasure of seeing one, he might compare her, with the way the silver threaded through her skirts glinted in the sunlight, to a mermaid. She glistened, her hair plastered to her forehead and loosing itself to float around her bare shoulders. Though he panted, the Queen was barely even breathing hard. Her foot glanced off of his before she was gone again, their unspoken conversation momentarily forgotten. She was mischievous, elusive; a water nymph. She bobbed and weaved and dove, ever just out of his reach. He treaded water in a frantic circle, looking around wildly before she resurfaced behind him, grinning.

"My queen," he said weakly, "you shouldn't…"

"I was fine," Susan protested, sending droplets his way as she tossed her head. (They were both pretending that they hadn't kept from speaking to each other for the past forty minutes, simply because they could, or maybe because they felt like they had to.) "Or haven't you forgotten that I used to live her for fifteen years?"

Caspian was silent. She wished that she hadn't mentioned that.

Her legs tangled with his and they were entwined. It took all his effort to restrain himself as he drank in the sight of her, the way water pooled in the shallow curve where her neck met her shoulder, the soft current her feet made as they beat the water into a whirlpool, pulling him in. He had never so appreciated water. And as she drew nearer, an irresistible gravity, and they met in a slick embrace, only their lips binding their slippery flesh, he doubted he ever would again.

For the second time that day, he was wrong.

* * *

  
It had been nearly two and a half weeks that Lucy and Susan had been confined to their chambers, and Lucy was about to go mad. She had not seen or heard from any of her friends - Caspian, Trumpkin, and Reepicheep she missed most of all - and she was beginning to even see less of Susan. She had not heard anything from or about her brothers either, and as she wallowed in boredom - occupied only by the delivery of meals by servants deemed trustworthy - she began to worry. And sorely miss the diary she had left in the garden.

Though she slightly regretted leaving it there simply for the fact that shy Trumpkin had access to it, she had a feeling that he would not read it. Mostly, she longed to write in it, for while the pages were old, she really had something to write about: she had a growing suspicion that Susan was sneaking out to see Caspian.

What exactly they did together, she did not know, and could not really imagine. All she knew was that when she secretly opened the window one morning to let in a breeze, it was clear someone else had done the same, for there were voices and laughter clearly audible. Unfortunately, Lucy could not actually make out much of anything they were saying.

One of Lucy's only bad habits was poking around in the business of others. After all, she was a curious little girl and always desired to look after the interests of others - even when they did not wish her to. And while her sister did tell her that eavesdropping was a naughty thing to do, she suspected this was for Susan's own benefit, for while conversations had with Tumnus could later on be mysteriously be recalled, nothing "compromising" Susan said could ever be brought up or even remembered.

So, of course, the naughty little girl that still lived in Lucy desired very much to get her bossy older sister into trouble. But when she got the chance to do it, she wasn't quite sure how to go about it.

What happened was this: when, one day, the voices ceased, Lucy was continuing to listen intently for their resuming when she saw a string of men approaching out her window. Not stopping to think, about Susan or poison or any other possible dangers, she flew out of her room, through the chamber, down the hallways and out of the courtyard to meet the party just outside of the gates.

"Peter! You're here!" Lucy cried jubilantly, throwing herself at him in a hug.

Relishing the embrace, Peter dropped a kiss to his sister's wind-blown hair and managed a tiny smile.

"Yes, I am here," he repeated, sounding as though he was still confirming it to himself.

He threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes - a shrieking, kicking sack of potatoes - and headed inside.

"You've grown," he grunted.

"It's only been a month," Lucy pointed out.

"I know," Peter replied, struggling to mask his resentment of this fact.

"Where's Edmund?" Lucy asked, writhing in his grasp.

"He stayed behind," Peter muttered, setting her down and holding her at arms' length. She saw the sadness and weariness in his face and was immediately sorry for asking. "I should ask the same of Susan."

"I-I don't know," she replied honestly, her eyes downcast.

"You were all supposed to be sequestered," Peter said, his voice flatlining dangerously.

Lucy looked at him. She had not been afraid of him when he had first used Rhindon to slay Maugrim, nor when he fought Jadis with it, or even when they had found themselves back in England and his depression gave way to rage. But now, as his hand hovered over his sword's hilt, she was truly frightened.

"She is with Caspian," he stated.

Lucy looked away, scarcely daring to nod.

"It is fortunate that Edmund is not here," he said, with a grim smile Lucy would have been glad not to witness, "to try and stop me."


	9. The Reevaluation

**The Scarlet Age**

A _Chronicles of Narnia_ Fanfiction

by hairsprayheart

Chapter Eight: The Reevaluation

Caspian had taken for granted that he did not have to think. Around Susan, he was normally kept on his toes – she was a strange, foreign, and beautiful creature, with a wider range of emotions and a sharper tongue than he had ever seen in a woman before. As he kissed her, a sort of instinct took over, and he did not question his actions, but held her to him and kissed her. When the actions became less than chaste, and his hands lowered from her bare shoulders to the gentle bowl of her back, only then did his mind – blasted gentleman mentality – step in. And now that their little escapade, however brief, was coming to an end, his thoughts came flooding back to him.

They retrieved their garments, and helped each other redress. It pained him to linger there, where his hands longed to touch her warm flesh and met stiff linen and metal stays. But the work gave him a distraction from her. She was dangerous - of this, he was sure.

The Queen Susan was like nothing he had ever known. She was nothing like a Telmarine woman was supposed to be. Instead of being darkened by hard labor, her skin was porcelain white. Rather than being dull and submissive, she was clever, even haughty, and confident. She looked delicate, not broad. _Not good for childbearing_, he thought automatically, and his cheeks flamed and his mind reeled.

Was such a thought so forbidden? He was nearly of marrying age and she was already... according to Telmarine standards. He had thought of taking a wife many times - _just not her_ – for the dream of every prince was to become a strong man, a powerful king, and produce an heir. It would not be shameful in the eyes of the lords to take a wife –

only one that was a Narnian.

...But then, he never _had_ desired to please the lords. Their standards reminded him only of a painful childhood, devoid of love and happiness. He had found it in the Narnians' gentle queen.

What would the Narnians think? Mostly, they had accepted him, and would probably be overjoyed by the union. Oh, what was he _saying_? He did not care what the others thought. It did not matter that she was the opposite of everything he had ever been told to want, the opposite of everything he had ever expected, the opposite of everything that he had ever known.

* * *

_Ed. Needed here straightaway_.

No titles, no formal language. No pleasantries.

Edmund grimaced, knowing that he would be once again be sorting out one of his brother's messes. He was used to it by now. And, of course, it was his brother. And there was most definitely a mess.

The Gryphon winged up into the warm summer air, and a small part of Edmund wished that he could go with. He was not surprised by the letter, and had a feeling that even before it was delivered Peter had already gone out to seek justice. But, of course, a title was a title, and the Just King knew that he had a job to do. (Peter would botch it up badly beforehand, but he supposed that would make it all the more interesting.)

Though Edmund appeared very alone, he knew that quite the opposite was true. The Telmarines had been sent home a few days ago, with his brother leading them (he might not have liked leading them home, but he did like leading them, in general). He had spent the last few days without food or company or even water. And while he had reassured Peter that he was simply looking after the site and planning, and that he was being given provisions, he had spent all of his time fasting and praying. The other thing that Edmund had not told Peter was _who_ he was praying for – him.

Peter had gotten himself into trouble with frightening frequency since their return to Narnia. Though the "old Edmund" would have been pleased to see his brother floundering so – having someone else, other than himself, be seen in a negative light – he had not been that sort of boy for quite some time. Rather, he had for a while not been a boy at all. And as he grew, his relationship with Aslan had grown. Instead of being happy, he was deeply saddened. He did not know exactly why Peter was struggling (he had a vague idea involving pride, jealousy, and over-protectiveness, along with the more pleasant qualities that had once made him a good High King but had somehow got to be mangled) but he did know how he could help. Or maybe who could help.

For the umpteenth time that day, the King knelt and whispered the words that he had been saying for the last sixteen years. And then he got up. He was going home.

* * *

Panting, the Valiant Queen pounded up the steep steps of the narrow corridor. Never before had the winding staircase seemed so long.

She burst into her room and snatched her cordial from her dresser, fearing that she would need it. But her eyes caught on the worn leather of the book laying upon her bed. She halted for just a moment - to catch her breath, she said - and stared at it. Cair Paravel had once had a grand library (Edmund had amassed quite a collection of histories in particular, to help him understand politics and diplomacy) but only once before had she seen anything like this. As she gazed upon it, she was overwhelmed with a sense of peace. Something told her that everything would be all right. So, trusting her instincts, she settled on the bed and opened the book that had once been on the bookshelf of Tumnus the Faun.

His writing was peculiar; scrolling and lyrical, so unlike the humble and clumsy Faun himself. She had grown familiar with it, over the course of a correspondance of fifteen years in letters, and her mind had not forgotten it in one year of absence. But seeing it again, she smiled anew at the irony of it. Was it possible that the journal still smelled of him, of sardines and spring and sunshine, or was she just imagining it?

She read hungrily, her facial expressions in turn aghast, sad, and even angry. The words she read were not reminiscent of the Tumnus she knew. They were bitter and hopeless. He described how the White Witch had manipulated him - not just him, but many Narnians - and how he had slowly lost his faith in Aslan and the prophecy. Though these things discouraged her, she knew there was a happy ending to the story, and, ever the optimist, went on, hoping for it to show itself. Day by day she read the entries, until nearly an hour had elapsed. At this time she had finally come to her meeting with him.

"_Today, I met a Girl named __Lucy Pevensie__, from the land of Spare Oom in the country of War Drobe. She is utterly remarkable. All they have said is true. How I could not have seen it before, I do not know_."

Stunned, Lucy lay back against the headboard. She did not need to reread the rest of the words; she had been there when most of them were written. Of course Tumnus had told her many times that she had been his saving grace, but suddenly, she realized that she could help more than just one lost Faun. How could _she_ have not seen it before? The best way to save someone was to show them love, something that the Telmarines had never seen before. And she was the one who could give it to them - or at the very least, try to introduce them to Someone who could.

As she bustled out to begin planning, still clutching her cordial, she did not notice in the shadows another creature who she had saved – a gruff Dwarf, who held the Queen's own diary close to his heart and gave a smile like diamonds in the darkness as he watched her go.

* * *

Peter had noticed that Destrier's stall was empty. It also did not take him long to find out that both Susan and Caspian were missing. He could only imagine all of the dangerous situations that Susan had gotten herself into - the most painful (and easiest) of which was of her own volition. He knew that Caspian had gone willingly (for no kidnapper could overtake him), but had Susan? She was not good at hand-to-hand combat in close quarters – not even a handy arrow could match a sword.

About a ten minute's ride from the castle, Peter realized that he had no idea where his sister was. He could spent a fortnight searching the forest and still not find her.

Perhaps he should have asked Lucy first – she always knew this sort of thing. Women's intuition and all that. He sighed and ran a hand through his filthy hair, withdrawing it immediately in disgust and anger. He hadn't really thought this through. But when Susan's safety was in question – or any of his siblings', for that matter – his mind had a habit of leaving him momentarily, and he ended up in trouble for it. But he was quite certain that Susan was in danger. Or, at least, somewhat. …Wasn't she? It was not normal for two people to go off on a ride without telling anyone about it, especially when they were under _strict orders not to do so_. Why didn't anyone listen to him anymore?

He reined his saddle horse in, scanning the forest for either of the royals. They were up to something, and he did not like it. Not one bit.

* * *

Collecting their scattered clothes was a solemn affair as both royals began to realize the full gravity of what they had done.

Susan maintained every ounce of her dignity (even through the kiss her posture was perfect, and as she deepened it with daunting confidence, it was clear that she was the one in charge), and emerged from the water like a nymph, natural and comfortable in the environment. It would appear to Caspian, or so she hoped, that she knew what she was doing. She rather hoped to intimidate him. After all the little shocks he had given her, he deserved something in return.

The reckless and surprising passion she found that she had for him had taken strange turns between wanting him to protect her – like he had that moment in the forest, when the Telmarines were bearing down on her and her quiver was empty – and wanting to be in complete control. For the moment, it was the latter.

She insisted upon re-lacing her court dress and doing up her hair herself, for though it was a struggle, she could not appear weak in front of him. It did not matter that this whole day had been a weakness on her part – clearly, she needed him; it was dangerous how much – she still had to keep up appearances. For all she knew, Peter would come barging out between the trees at any moment, and what he did not know would not hurt him. Or her. Or Caspian.

Oh, Peter. He was always trying to defend her. But he seemed to think that in order to keep her safe, he had to keep her as naïve as possible. And if that was his wish, then he had gotten it.

Susan really did not know what love was. Or at least, she was not quite sure what it was like to feel it. But she thought she was getting the idea. Love was not the grand and glorious thing of some poets, or the solemn surrender of others. It was clumsy and strange and unnerving. She was afraid of it, even as she seemed to be rushing into it headlong and unable to stop herself. She was so afraid of being out of control that when she had the first inklings of this strange feeling she had tried to push it down, and push away the person that was causing it. All her feelings were jumbled up together, happiness at being in Narnia, suspicion that it might not last, anger at the Telmarines, sadness for those that had died, and pure, young love for Caspian. She had been unable to distinguish them at once. The more she tried to do so, the more difficult it became. Only when she gave up, resigning herself to be controlled forever by these cruel and ever-changing emotions, did she finally feel free of them.

Why did she love Caspian? Why hadn't she loved anyone else, during the Golden Age, when she had been older and wiser and more of everything else that was desirable? Many thought these questions, and she had frequently asked them of herself. The only answer she could think of was that Aslan worked in mysterious ways. Perhaps she had taken her first time in Narnia for granted. She wanted to experience everything she could this time around. Or maybe, simply, the right person had not come along.

She was sure that Caspian was the right person. He was gallant and handsome, charming and strong, intelligent and sweet. Of course she was biased, but she had not found a single flaw with him – other than his stubbornness and sentimentalism, which it would be hypocritical, she knew, to judge him for. They were so different and yet the same. If Aslan did not want them to be together, he would not have given her these feelings for him. He would have sent them home sooner, just like in her dream.

And he would not let her love for Caspian override her love for Aslan himself, or for her family.

Despite all of Peter's efforts to stop her – and even some of her own – Susan was growing up. And she supposed that this was a part of it.

Susan had always been something of a romantic. She loved reading stories and poems, she loved flowers and summers, she loved stars and animals and anything else that had any connotation of love. During the Golden Age, she had been so focused on ruling and helping her family and serving Aslan that marriage had not really occurred to her more than as a fleeting idea. All of her love had been concentrated elsewhere, and seeing fools fall over themselves for her – just so that they could get at her throne – had not done anything other than disillusion her. But always, in the back of her mind, there remained a desire to have someone love her like others had only pretended to, and to love that person back. There was a semblance of a romance so pure and perfect that it could never be attained, and so she had not really expected to do so. (She had, of course, always been such a practical girl.) But now, perhaps, she had.

She had to test Caspian just a little bit, to make sure of this. She would drop hints that he should ask Peter to court her. She would bake him things, and visit him while he worked, and take care of him, like a good wife would. And she would do it as often as possible, to get him used to it. If he was scared of the future, she would find out soon enough. After all, she couldn't have a husband who was a coward.

He flashed her a shy smile as he mounted Destrier. They would tell no one of this incident just yet. But when everyone found out, Narnia would find itself in the center of a courtship that it had been waiting thirteen hundred years for. He lifted her onto the horse, ever chivalrous, and held her close. Then he leaned over and whispered three words into her ear.

A slow smile spread over her face, and she returned the favor.

But as the High King emerged from the other side of the clearing, she knew that she would not have to test Caspian's bravery herself.

* * *

Floored, Peter met them in the middle of the meadow. He had known they would be together, but actually having it proved upset him all over again.

"What are you doing? You're supposed to be inside. It's dangerous. There have been three good Narnians poisoned, and you're not safe, and I didn't know—."

"We were just out for a ride," Susan interrupted calmly.

Peter stiffened visibly at the double entendre, knowing it was not meant as one, and swallowed the bile rising in his throat.

"You could have told me that," he grunted, the wind taken from his sails.

"We did," Caspian piped up, trying to be helpful but failing miserably. "There's a note..."

Peter squared his shoulders, realizing his mistake but unwilling to give.

"I would appreciate if you unhanded the Queen," he said stiffly.

"My apologies, your majesty," Caspian murmured in reply, humbled by the use of titles and forced to comply. When he moved to help Susan off of Destrier and his hand brushed her bodice accidentally, Peter's face purpled.

"Do not touch her!" he bellowed.

"He's just trying to help," Susan snapped, flushing all the same (despite their recent intimacy, it was different to have contact in front of Peter, especially since it had not yet been _so_ intimate). "Thank you, Caspian."

"You don't need that sort of help," Peter growled.

"Obey the High King, your Majesty," Caspian said quietly.

"He may be a king, but I am not his servant," Susan spat out, tilting her chin up defiantly.

"You are a servant of Aslan and you do him disservice acting thusly," Peter said tightly.

"Me?" Susan cried. Destrier skittered sideways at her shrill voice, and she lowered it dangerously. "It is you who parade around acting as though you were the Lion himself."

"How dare you," Peter murmured.

"Your Majesties, please," Caspian begged.

"Caspian," Susan said warningly, "do not involve yourself."

"He already has! _Look at yourselves_!"

"You are angry with him for something he has not done," Susan replied coldly.

Peter narrowed his eyes. "I am not angry with him."

"You are angry with me," Susan clarified.

"I am angry with _myself_!" Peter roared. "Do you not see? I am so busy trying to do what Aslan has commanded that I have forgotten him."

"Peter," Caspian said, without realizing the lack of proper title usage, "it's all right."

The High King hunched over on the ground, trembling with what looked to be rage, but his body was wracked with great sobs.

Susan watched him in surprise. Though she rather liked being right, she hadn't expected it. Her anger and haughtiness subsided instantly and her gentle nature took over.

"I should not have pushed him," she whispered, whether to Caspian or someone else it could not be said.

Caspian blinked. He had often been the unfortunate target of Peter's anger, but he had been either understanding or deserving – as he saw now. In all of the fuss surrounding Peter's power, he had never questioned its source. And he should not have – as he saw now.

"Being a good king," Peter said brokenly, drawing in a shaky breath, "means much more than being a king."

Purposely looking away, Susan tried to recall the anger she had felt towards her brother. But she could not. He had tried to keep her from Caspian, led Narnians into battle against their will, and acted like an absolute _prig_. However, he was her brother. He had forgiven her for so many things and she could not withhold her forgiveness from him. He just did the wrong thing for the right reasons.

As she turned to him, with his lips moving silently in a reverent prayer and tears sluicing down his face, she realized this. Though his pride had flared, it was founded in Aslan.

Peter was angry for not being able to lead the Telmarines to his King. He had expected so much of himself as a High King and knight and brother and _servant_ that his internal frustration had been wrought on others. Not his lack of control over others but rather his lack of control over himself had pushed him to this point. So obsessed was he in following his duties to Aslan, he had neglected Aslan himself.

All of these things came to Susan at once as her brother lay in a pitiful heap on the ground. Overcome, she too began to weep.

She knelt beside him – Narnia's highest royals in the most subservient position. They wept for those who had lost their lives and for the one that had come back. They wept out of guilt and out of gratefulness, shame and humility and happiness too.

Though Caspian could not fully comprehend the siblings' actions, he felt the urge to join them on the forest floor – not between, but beside them. He knelt on Peter's left and clasped his friend's shoulder in a vice to brace him against the tide of emotions and prayed aloud. He did not know where this sudden strength was coming from in the time of Peter's (seeming) weakness, but he had a pretty good idea.

"Oh mighty Lion," he said thickly, "keep us strong. We cannot go on without you."

Caspian continued to speak, and his words resonated in the hearts of all that were present. They came not from him, and were not directed at anyone other than Aslan. But they brought new strength to each sovereign in a different way, as the prayer was already being listened to.

As tears washed away the dirt caked on his face, all of the pride and anger and fear that had collected in Peter's heart were being also cleared off. When at least the tears had subsided and Caspian pulled him to his feet, Peter looked and felt like a new man.

"Thanks," he said, clapping Caspian on the back as he gave the loaded statement.

Caspian just gave a short nod, not wanting to mention the High King's failings any further and believing it time to be back.

"You know, it's a good thing I showed up when I did," Peter began slowly, "or you two would have faced some serious questioning from our royal sister. Not to mention Reepicheep."

Heartened, Susan offered him a watery smile.

"You mean to say that he's back?"

"Yes. Unfortunately, that also means that the mystery of the poison has come to a dead end."

Caspian's brow furrowed. As the original suspicious had been placed on the Telmarines, this was still a touchy subject, but neither of the kings seemed in the mood for a conflict. For the first time in ages, Susan thought that they both looked content.

They began towards their horses, who had both wandered off a ways to graze. Peter kicked the ground as he walked. "I hope Ed got my letter."

"You came home without him?"

Susan sounded less angry than fearful.

"Sorry, Su," Peter said, chagrined. "He and I had some quarrels and I think he wanted some time alone. …He'll be all right," he added weakly.

Wordlessly, Susan nodded. She had expected as much. Of the two brothers, Edmund had always been the more introverted/introspective, and whenever he was unhappy he became even more withdrawn than usual. She did not feel the need to voice Peter's blame, now that he was accepting of it, but she was still worried for her brother – especially since Caspian had brought the Telmarine men home. He was by himself in the midst of one of Narnia's largest mysteries (the first, of course, being the disappearance of the Four Sovereigns, another still whether or not the Old Narnians existed, both of which had been solved).

"He'll be home soon," Caspian said reassuringly, interrupting her thoughts and stirring up a few new ones when he laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. This time, Peter did not flinch at the contact, and for this, Susan was grateful.

"As we all should be," Peter said, catching Destrier and handing the charger's reins to his owner.

They mounted, and headed back for the castle at an easy lope. No one would admit it, but they were all eager to return. (Peter, especially, desired to bathe, as he had not done so in weeks and had decided upon his homecoming that there were other priorities.) There were many questions that needed answering, and food that needed eating, and welcoming beds. Breaking down always took a lot out of a person. They traveled on, until the forest broke to reveal the Great River.

The water was blood red.


	10. The Redemption

**The Scarlet Age**

A _Chronicles of Narnia_ Fanfiction

by hairsprayheart

Chapter Nine: The Redemption

* * *

AN: Ten chapters, 40k+ words, and almost 500 hits… but only 20 reviews. If you like the story, and want it to keep goin', please let me know! Thanks for all the feedback so far – you guys are great. Also, check out the artwork for the story listed on my page.

* * *

  
After staring at the water in awe for a few long moments, Caspian managed to regain his senses enough to call his tutor to the scene, thanks to a friendly Blackbird. The time between then and the Professor's arrival was filled with pacing, confusion and anxiety. When he finally arrived, they greeted each other quickly before getting down to business. Cornelius assessed the river expertly, taking time to look at it with a critical eye. After a minute or so of this, Caspian was growing antsy.

"What is it?" he asked, impatiently but not unkindly.

Professor Cornelius, in answer, dipped his fingers into the water. Upon smelling them, he drew back almost immediately.

"Botus," he said simply, looking up at his kings from where he knelt in the soft turf of the riverbank.

"What?" Peter asked.

"Botus," the Professor repeated. "Here. See for yourselves."

He offered his palm, in which red water pooled, for the royals to look at. Somewhat hesitantly, they obeyed. The water appeared to be filled with hundreds of tiny creatures. Susan turned away at the smell.

"They're dead," she observed.

"They never should have been alive," Cornelius said, with visible disgust. He shook the water from his hand. He looked as though he wanted to wipe it clean on his cloak, but decided against it.

"Where do they come from?" Peter wondered, leaning over the water to look at it under Susan's warning gaze.

"No one knows much about them," the Professor admitted, subtly cleaning his hand in the grass. "Most of the time they live dormant in the bottom of the river. They have not been seen for a great many years."

Ever the historian, Peter pressed, "When was the last time?"

Thoughtfully, Cornelius responded, "The siege of Cair Paravel."

A shadow passed over Peter's face briefly as everything came flooding back to him in an instant - the way the Telmarines had ruined his former home, and now evaded its rebuilding. He shook his head quickly. He would control himself. There was no one to be angry at here. They were all long dead. He was the one truly to blame; It was he who had left. The invading Telmarines had only been following the way of their ancestors: taking whatever they could. Still, the fact that had just been revealed struck a chord within him. He looked at the water, leaning out over it despite Susan's fearful glances. "Do you know why?"

Caspian fidgeted. It appeared that he knew the answer and was uncomfortable to share it, but knew he was obliged to do so. He looked at his tutor as if for permission, and when the man inclined his head, continued: "It is said that the first of the parasites came in the water skin of a Telmarine from the Old World," he said softly. "They were as bloodthirsty as the pirates they were hosted by, and they were punished with death at its taste." He paused. "They are toxic only to those who are not of Telmar."

For a moment, everyone was silent as they took in this information. The Telmarines had done many things to harm the country, it would seem, for no one had even heard of a botus during the Pevensies' reign.

"I believe it," Susan said, breaking her silence. "They have only appeared when there was blood in the water."

"But what about the soldier?" Peter broke in.

Caspian shrugged one shoulder. "These are all just wives' tales, told by old and bitter women."

Cornelius got to his feet with effort (and Caspian's help) and smiled ruefully. "The old are only the wise, my king."

"Ah, but not all have the age to possess your knowledge, Professor," Caspian teased.

"So every descendent of the Telmarine pirates is immune to the creatures," Susan mused, too occupied by her own thoughts to hear the banter between the former teacher and pupil. "Then I suppose it should not be too much of a problem."

Peter shook his head. "Not every Telmarine is immune," he said grimly. "But everyone needs water."

Caspian blanched. "All of our water comes from reservoirs of the river," he whispered.

"We had thought the creatures dead. Miraz never thought to make sure of it," Cornelius grunted, apparently not feeling the need to hide his disdain for his late king. (Most of the Telmarines had not thought of Miraz as their king at all, only a good-for-nothing usurper, but of course were too afraid to say so. Anyone that did went the way of the lords of Caspian XI.) "He never thought anything of his own people."

"What are we going to do?" Susan asked. She looked at her brother and then to Caspian. "Without water, we can't cook or bathe or wash or—"

"—live," Peter finished flatly. Almost hesitantly, he asked his fellow king, "Any ideas?"

Seeing the fear in Caspian's eyes, Peter was struck suddenly by who remarkably alike they were: just two scared kids trying to live up to everyone else's expectations for them. Sure, the circumstances were a little different - Caspian was about a year older than he had been first taking the throne, and the other boy had been much more sheltered and prepared for kingly life. But he also had to fix everyone else's mistakes. Every time he made one of his own, it would be even more obvious. He was under enormous pressure. They both were. They were both headstrong and perfectionists. They fought hard to protect what they loved. But one advantage that Peter had had (not as if this were any competition) was that Peter had grown up with a father and a family. While Caspian had nothing, Peter had had this. And now, he had them.

Caspian looked at his feet, and then eyed Peter squarely. "No," he confessed quietly.

With this inadvertent plea for help, Caspian felt relieved. He saw Peter nod once, and understood. He knew that Peter had not liked him, at first (they _were_ introduced in a swordfight of sorts), but for the same reasons, Caspian had disliked Peter. They were so alike. But one of the things that Caspian had once so hated about Peter was now what he appreciated the most: he was cool, unflappable, and always knew what to do, even in the midst of a crisis. And this was a crisis.

"It's all right," Peter said. And they all knew that it would be. Somehow.

* * *

  
When the weary party returned to the castle, they were surprised not to be greeted by Lucy bounding out to meet them. Instead, the courtyard was empty, save for one small dwarf and one large mouse.

Reepicheep straightened up instantly at the sight of them, his long tail twitching in a wave. "Welcome, your Majesties. We have anxiously awaited your return."

Susan mustered up a smile for the Mouse, but Peter and Caspian remained grim. Cornelius followed them, clutching a jar filled with the botus. He held it out in front of him, far from his person, and the others were also doing their best not to come into contact with it.

Though no one said anything, it was clear that the two good Narnians had been posted to keep watch for trouble upon the royals' return. Though Professor Cornelius was known for his intellect, he was more often employed for diplomatic purposes (he was as fair as he was wise), and after a few of the more gossipy chambermaids had observed the spectacle of Peter flying from the castle, with Cornelius summoned to follow him only a half-hour after, it was supposed throughout the castle that there would be trouble between their hard-headed kings. The Narnians were more astute than their human counterparts would give them credit for, and many had noticed that in the High Kings' absence, the two eldest monarchs-in-residence had been spending more time together than was usual. They also remembered that Queen Susan's indecisiveness was not the only thing that had kept her from choosing a suitor in the Golden Age.

But, there appeared to be nothing to worry about, for both Caspian and Peter had reappeared not only in one piece but in what looked to good spirits. Well, that was only from a distance, really, but you can't blame the Narnians for their wishful thinking. (And, after all, they were as of yet unaware of the situation with the water.)

Peter halted suddenly, causing those behind him to nearly run into him. "Where's Lu?"

"Last I saw her, she was headed for the kitchen, your majesty," Reepicheep answered promptly.

"She _is_ growing," Peter muttered to himself, then disappeared into the cool darkness of the stone walls of the castle.

"Long day. Don't ask," Susan explained quickly to the confused Mouse, then hurried in after her brother.

* * *

  
Lucy the Valiant was about to do one of the bravest things she had ever done in her entire life (which, if you counted all of it, was actually quite a bit longer than you might expect a twelve-year-old's life to have been): organize a tea for every woman in Telmar.

Well, perhaps not every woman; only all of them that decided to come. She would send out messengers – squirrels and birds, of course – to invite them to the gathering, which would be held the afternoon of the next day, so they could all get to know each other better. They were also welcome to bring their children or even their husbands if it pleased them, because many of the Narnians, who had also been invited, would be doing the very same thing.

After reading Mr. Tumnus' diary, and then finding her own a few hours afterwards, Lucy had been struck by the inspiration to organize the tea. It would, she hoped, help to acquaint the Narnians and Telmarines with each other, and promote new friendships between them. They _were _countrymen now, after all, and if her experience in the Golden Age had taught her anything, it was that all countrymen should be friends. She expected that Trumpkin had somehow helped to rearrange this in an attempt to busy her in order to (at least temporarily) distract her from the ceaseless arguing of her silly siblings. It was working.

Yes, it would be a challenge, but it would also be worth it.

She stood on top of a chair in the massive kitchen of the castle, looking less than formidable in an apron that was about seven sizes too large for her, but she still held command over every Creature and Animal in her presence. (Though you might be amused or frightened by seeing an Animal in your kitchen, if you had lived in Narnia as long as Lucy had, you would probably be used to it, as she was.) It would take leadership, hard work, and a bit of luck to get everything ready on time, because usually the preparations for such a grand event had to be made a few weeks in advance. But everyone in the kitchen looked eager to help, and they were doing a fantastic job. Already a small pile of cakes was gathering on the collection of platters, and Dryads had been making trips to the garden to fetch more berries every time she turned around.

Feeling satisfied with the work that had been done so far, she tasted one of the spiced wines being held up for her to critique and licked her lips thoughtfully. "Silveroot, could you please add a pinch of cinnamon to the—"

Lucy's sweet trill ended suddenly as three worried royals burst into the kitchen.

"Oh, hello. I see you're back." She smiled indulgently at her two siblings and the one that nearly was. "Did you have a nice trip?"

"We just wanted to make sure you were all right," Susan mumbled, looking about in confusion at the crowd around her.

Lucy hopped down from the chair. "I'm perfectly splendid," she clarified flatly, eyeing her sister worriedly. "Are _you_?"

Gently, Peter took his sister's elbow while Caspian took the other and they steered her back out of the kitchen. "Erm, have fun, Lu," he called in passing.

Shaking her head exasperatedly, Lucy climbed back onto her chair and began calling out commands. She had a lot of work to do.

The kitchen crew quickly busied themselves once more, but a moment later, when one of the floor cabinets was opened to look for extra flour, the poor Deer gave a little shriek of surprise. Then everything went silent save for the sound of the stool creaking as Lucy got down from it to see what was going on for herself.

Anyone looking at Queen Lucy would see a bright, happy girl. But it was clear that the stress of trying to hold a country together while its own rulers were fighting amongst each other was getting to her. She eyed the open cabinet stormily and marched over, threw open its doors, and peered inside.

Sitting folded up in the cabinet, looking rather pleased with himself, and chewing a mouthful of sweet, sticky oatencake, was Edmund. Lucy gave him a fierce glare for eating her supplies, but had to forgive him, since he was here, she was sure, to intervene just in case anything was out of hand. He gave her a sheepish smile that glinted like a swordblade in the sunlight.

It was true that anyone looking at Queen Lucy would see a bright, happy girl. But that girl had gone through many things. She had been taken from her home multiple times, and when she went back, it wasn't the same. She had watched her best friend die, her brother almost die, and too many of her people die. She had grown up too fast, all for naught. When things finally seemed as though they might be all right, it turned out that they weren't.

Edmund was the closest in age to Lucy of her siblings, and it seemed natural that they would also be the closest in heart. But for a long time, they had not been; Edmund continued to push her away and push her down. It hurt her deeply. When this changed – this was when she truly fell in love with Narnia. It was a magical place. Or at least, it used to be. Though she would not admit it, having her brothers leave her and her sister pay more attention to someone else also hurt. She was not used to being in charge. She didn't like it. It wasn't in her nature. She wasn't a powerful person. She would much rather let someone else have the glory while she loved on them and listened to them and took care of them quietly. Being brave didn't necessarily mean doing something showy, it meant living everyday life without giving up. It meant doing what was hard. And oh, was she! Lucy looked around at the unfamiliar people in the kitchen, and then back at her brother.

"Hullo, Lu."

He crawled out of the cabinet and hugged her to him. And that was all it took to make Lucy the Valiant begin to cry.

* * *

  
"What are we going to do?" Caspian moaned, pacing the hallway outside of the lords' chamber.

"We are not asking the lords for their opinion," Peter repeated for what seemed like the fortieth time. "For heavens' sake, man, pull yourself together. Those pompous fools would just get us into more trouble."

Susan shot her brother a warning glance at his tone, but he was unaffected.

"Let's think this out," she reasoned practically. "If absolutely all of the water comes from the river, there has to be a way to remove the creatures from the river so the water is usable. The poison is caused by the botus, right, Caspian?"

The addressed nodded miserably. "But how? They are so small, and so many…"

"We'll figure something out," Peter promised. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "I wish Edmund were here."

"Well, he should be back soon, shouldn't he?" Susan asked. "Maybe we should just wait—"

"No," Csapian interjected, looking too dejected to be apologetic. "Every second we wait, the toxins are spreading. There has to be something…"

"A spring," Peter piped up, snapping his fingers. "Aren't there any other sources of fresh water nearby?"

"I don't know the land well," Caspian admitted. "…My uncle liked to keep me in the dark about such things. But Glenstorm does."

"Good, good. Where is he?"

Susan bit her lip. "We, ah, sent him out a few days after you left to the How."

Peter just closed his eyes. His optimism had faded quickly. They were running out of options, and frankly, asking the lords for help was a risk he was just not willing to take. He inhaled deeply, winging a quick prayer to Aslan for his aid, and then looked at Caspian.

"Any other ideas?" he asked through clenched teeth.

Caspian returned his gaze with a blank stare. Peter hoped that meant his mind was racing.

"The pond," he remembered suddenly, and Peter's heart did a jig in his chest.

"Where is this pond?" he asked.

"Well, it's… I'm not exactly sure. But I can find it," Caspian vowed. "And I will."

Peter beamed.

"Round up your men. We begin the construction of the aqueduct in two days."

* * *

  
Pattertwig the Squirrel was very tired.

He had spent the entire day running throughout the kingdom, leaping from branch to branch of tree to tree, telling people first about the tea that Queen Lucy was hosting and then, upon his return and rerouting, about the meeting that was being held that night in the castle.

Of course, a tired Squirrel still moves about the same speed (or faster) as a perfectly refreshed Animal of any other sort, so he was able to reach everyone and inform them of the upcoming event. Because of this, every Telmarine who was willing (or forced) came that evening to hear what their king had to say.

"Good eve," Caspian began, looking a little nervous as he stared out into the expectant faces of the crowd. "I suppose you're all wondering why you are gathered here."

Pattertwig felt sorry for him as the crowd made a few disapproving noises.

"Well, due to a recent problem arising with the botus in our rivers, our water has been poisoned."

At this, there were gasps, and Pattertwig thought he saw from his perch far above the crowd that a few ladies had fainted.

"But no fear, for his Majesty High King Peter has come up with a solution."

Of course, the fact that the High King of the Narnians caused some grumbling amongst the more old-fashioned Telmarines, but they were still somewhat agreed if it would save their lives.

"We will build an aqueduct running from a new water source. But we will need the helping hands of every able-bodied man, and the patience and resourcefulness of every woman. The new source is small and water must be rationed for the time being."

Caspian appeared finished at this point when Lucy came up to his side and whispered something in his ear.

"Oh, and her Majesty Queen Lucy would like to remind you to come to her tea tomorrow afternoon, if you please."

Satisfied, Lucy left the podium, and Caspian was once again alone. When nothing more was said, people began to file out, grumbling – as they always did – about one thing or the other. A few were exchanging worried looks, while most of them just seemed angry. The Narnians, on the other hand, stayed to ask Caspian questions. Pattertwig watched all of this and wished they could all just live on nuts.

Unfortunately, what Pattertwig could not see was much more important.


	11. The Revenge

**The Scarlet Age**

A _Chronicles of Narnia_ Fanfiction

by hairsprayheart

Chapter Ten: The Revenge

* * *

AN: This chapter was done really quickly, so I apologize if it's not up to par. Please let me know what you think!

* * *

"Lucy. You're hovering again."

"I am not," Lucy insisted, though she was, indeed, hovering.

The two queens presided over the entire kitchen staff that morning. Some of them had stayed up most of the night continuing to make preparations for the tea, but it would hopefully be worth it. Many Narnian and Telmarine women were expected to turn up, and since royal gatherings were famous for their food, it was only proper that they continue the tradition of excellence. Susan and Lucy were the ones who were making this happen, of course, and enjoying themselves immensely while doing so. Or, at least, they had been, at first. Everyone was getting tired, and some tempers were flaring up. Lucy had been especially firm and by this point was probably being stricter than necessary with the exhausted staff. Of course, she wouldn't admit this.

"I'm doing something."

Susan smirked as she watched her sister straighten up and move to an empty table where there was a plate of cakes. Lucy's face contorted in concentration as she bent over the plate, sprinkling a handful of cinnamon on it. Her tongue protruding from her mouth, Lucy placed the finishing touch on the cakes: sugar, finely sifted, in the shape of a circle to represent the long-awaited unity of the Narnians and Telmarines.

"There." Satisfied, she stepped back to return to the task of observing her fellow cake-decorators. She circled the group of tables nearest to her, eyeing each cake with a critical eye. "See? I am _not_ hovering."

"Yes, you are," Susan sang out triumphantly, when Lucy lingered a moment too long over one of her charges.

"I just want to make sure that everything's perfect," Lucy said defensively, reaching out to taste the jam in a nearby jar.

It was true. Lucy had high hopes that if everything went well at the tea, it would help soothe the wound between the Telmarines and the Narnians that had flared up after the whole poisoning situation. To be honest, they were lucky that they'd had enough water in the wells to make all of the food. They really needed that aqueduct now.

"That's my job, remember?" Susan teased. When her sister didn't smile, her face fell. "This isn't the pivotal point in Narnia's history, you know. Just because the Narnian and Telmarine women can have a civilized gathering doesn't mean their husbands forgive so easily. We _are_ known for being more level-headed..."

She trailed off when she realized her sister wasn't responding. Lucy was now busily rearranging silverware and putting out place settings. Her shoulders were squared in a self-protective way and though her back was to Susan, she could still see the jerky motions that meant Lucy was trying not to cry.

"Oh, Lu," she murmured, moving to her sister and enfolding the smaller girl into her arms. "It's all right."

Lucy sniffled bravely. "Why is everyone still fighting?" she asked in a pained whisper.

"Only Aslan knows," Susan replied in a soothing voice as she stroked her sister's hair. "But I do know that he doesn't expect a little girl to fix everything."

"Thanks." Lucy smiled up at her sister. "I guess you're right."

"I'm always right," Susan sniffed with mock pride. "Well, come on, then, the tea's getting cold and our guests will be here any minute," she added, releasing her sister with hidden reluctance. "We have work to do!"

"Yes, your Majesty," Lucy said mockingly, sticking her tongue out.

Susan laughed. Sometimes she forgot that her sister _was _still a little girl. She was so strong, her faith unwavering and her love unending. It was moments like these that reminded her how young and frighteningly mortal Lucy - how each one of them, really - was.

When women and Animals began filing into the grand banquet hall, Susan was seated primly at the head of the table and Lucy at the foot, as title dictated. They settled down nicely, but the room was filled with an awkward silence.

"Welcome, everyone," Susan greeted them with forced cheer. "Thank you for coming."

A young Badger sitting down by Lucy called out happily, "You're welcome!"

After the embarrassed laughter had died down and it was clear that any attempts at conversation would fail miserably, the serving-girls brought out the food and tea.

Now that the house arrest law had been lifted upon the royals' return and the subsequent discovery of the reason behind the poisonings, everyone was celebrating by going out and about. However, no one appeared exactly in a merry mood except for a few Narnians.

One of the women seated near Susan began whispering to her companion: "I have to get home. My baby has been sick lately, and we can't afford a doctor. I just wanted to get something to eat so I can feed him."

Susan's heart ached for the woman. Ever since Miraz had begun acting as king, taxes had multiplied dramatically in order to finance his intimidating army. (He had never expected to have to use them against anyone, let alone an equal foe, but they were fearsome enough to make anyone that even thought of posing a challenge back down immediately - lords included.) The men who served were paid little, and there were few jobs for the women, who had to take care of their children anyway. The situation was one that seemed nearly impossible to escape from.

"Pardon me," a Rabbit said very quietly as she twitched her massive ears, "but I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. I find that a little chamomile can cure just about anything. I grow it in my garden, if you would ever like to stop by..."

"Oh, well, I- thank you," the woman said, a fleeting smile gracing her thin face.

"Honey can help a sore throat," a Bear added. "I have plenty to share."

"And cheese," a tiny Mouse piped up. "That... that's good for eating."

And just like that, the tension was lifted. The Narnians, who, after having almost all they had taken away from them, were offering everything they had to help out their new countrymen and -women. They began exchanging recipes for stew, ways to get a baby to fall asleep, and stories about meeting their husbands. Lucy smiled at Susan from across the table.

"Caspian should be here to see this," Susan said excitedly. "I'm going to go get him."

Lucy nodded her agreement. "Don't get into trouble," she warned jokingly.

Susan just rolled her eyes and hurried off towards Caspian's chambers.

* * *

"Dried meat?"

"Right here."

"Water skins?"

"Yes."

"Rhindon?"

"Obviously, Ed."

"Dry socks?"

"Really?"

"Extra rations?"

"Edmund!"

Peter shot his younger an exasperated glare, but Edmund just returned it with an irritatingly placid smile.

"Trying to be helpful, Pete."

"Then stop trying," Peter grunted, tightening his horse's girth. "I'm only going to be gone for a few days and you've got me packed for a month."

"That's what you said last time," Edmund reminded him. "You know, I'm starting to think you don't like me. I just get home and you're already setting off again, without me."

"Sorry. Duty calls," Peter replied dully.

"Oh, honestly, Peter. I don't like it and neither do the girls." He shook his head. "Or, at least they wouldn't, if you actually told them about it."

"I have to go up early to survey the site," he reminded Edmund. "Otherwise it will take even longer to start. And you know just as well as I do that if I told them I was actually going away again, they would be even more upset about it than I am." He sighed. "I have to do this, Ed."

Edmund gave a humph of grudging agreement. "But couldn't we go with you?"

"Someone has to stay behind. Caspian will be coming up to make the Telmarines happy and there's no way I'm leaving the girls alone here."

"If all the men will be gone, what does it matter anyway?" Edmund pointed out.

Peter glared at him to settle it once and for all. Edmund quieted, but he didn't look satisfied.

"Just let me do this, all right? After what happened, I need to get back in the Telmarines' good graces."

Edmund snorted.

"If you want to stay in our sisters' good graces, you ought to at least stop by the tea before you leave. Susan will have your head if you don't go."

"Just to have them convince me not to go when Lucy starts crying?" Peter shook his head as he put one foot in a stirrup and swung up into the saddle easily. "No thanks."

"Take care of yourself," Edmund said sternly. He rubbed the snip on the horse's velvety muzzle affectionately and looked back up at his brother.

Peter gave a short nod. "You too, Ed. …Tell the girls I said good-bye, will you?"

"All right." Edmund sighed inwardly as he watched Peter gather up his reins. He gazed at his brother lovingly, channeling all the worry and admiration he felt for him in one glance. "Aslan be with you, brother."

With a tiny smile, Peter replied, "And also with you."

"He always is," Edmund murmured. He patted the horse's rump in dismissal. "Now get out of here before you change your mind."

Peter didn't need to be told twice. He clucked to the horse and they set off at a sedate trot towards the pond.

Edmund watched him leave, his heart as heavy as the saddlebags Peter carried. Though he knew he wouldn't be far away, Edmund couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was about to take place.

* * *

"This is humiliating," Trumpkin grumbled. "Remind me again why I'm doing this. Maybe renewing my anger will renew my strength."

Trumpkin and Reepicheep were standing in Caspian's study, holding up two large planks of wood that were much too heavy for them to hold. Of course, Trumpkin was the only one complaining.

"We have to decide which is sturdier," Caspian replied slowly. He was focusing on the planks, inspecting them down to the very grains. "These will be carrying water all over Narnia."

"If you don't mind my asking, sire," Reepicheep ground out between his clenched teeth as Caspian tapped a nail into the plank he held up, "couldn't you have gotten a commoner to do this for you?"

"Yes," Caspian replied, circling the Mouse to get a view of the wood from different angles, "but this is easier. And so much more entertaining."

"Glad you're enjoying yourself," Trumpkin grunted sarcastically.

"All right. I suppose that's good enough," Caspian announced, and both creatures dropped their planks instantaneously.

"What other manual labor will we be forced to undertake, your Majesty?" the Dwarf asked with a sneer as he rubbed his shoulder.

"You're free to go," Caspian answered pointedly.

"Eh. Trees and teacups, I'm underappreciated," Trumpkin muttered, but he left.

"I think this is an excellent way to use all the lumber cleared from the wood, sire," Reepicheep piped up. "I daresay their Majesties will be very pleased with your resourcefulness."

"Reepicheep, get out," Caspian commanded in a voice that brooked no refusal, pointing towards the door.

"Right away, sire," the Mouse replied meekly, dropping to all fours and running out after his companion.

When they were both gone, Caspian rested his elbows on his desk and his face in his hands. He was never going to make a good king. Every time he thought he solved a problem, another one would arise, and prove even more pervasive than the one before it. _Oh, Aslan, help me_, he thought hopelessly. _Send me a sign that you are listening_.

"Caspian? Are you all right?"

"Queen Susan," Caspian gasped, scrambling to sit up right. "Is everything all right?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," she said, with the hint of a smile in her voice.

Caspian closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

"No," he said, very quietly.

Susan went up behind his chair and wrapped her arms around his neck, laying her head on his shoulder so that it angled up towards his ear. "Can I help you?"

Caspian moaned softly as her lips grazed his cheek.

"I wish you could, my queen," he said in a small, pained voice. "But I'm afraid I would get distracted..."

"Caspian," Susan murmured, "you're no good to your kingdom miserable like this."

"It's their own fault," Caspian muttered childishly.

Susan released him and went to go sit on the other side of his desk. She took one of his hands and stroked the palm of it with her index finger.

"I know it's hard," she sympathized. "But it will be all right, somehow. You've got us."

"Thank Aslan for that," Caspian agreed. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it gently.

They hadn't talked about their kiss since it had happened. It seemed like an age ago, but it had only been a day. And since they hadn't been alone with each other after that, there just hadn't been a chance to. Susan had hoped to do so now, but she realized that Caspian was too distraught to pile something else on him. They didn't have to define their relationship just yet, even though she wanted to. They could take it slowly. They had time.

Then she remembered her excuse for coming here - the tea. She smiled as she thought of its success.

"I brought you something," she announced.

She pulled a small parcel out from the pouch on her belt and nudged it across the table. It was a little cake. By the way Caspian's mouth watered, she guessed that he had forgone eating that day to focus on his work.

"You can have a taste," she encouraged.

Caspian leaned across the table and pressed his lips to hers, cradling her head with his free hand to keep her close. His grip tightened and the kiss intensified and Susan tried to squirm but he held her fast. When his fierce, open-mouthed kisses resulted in his tongue on hers, Susan put her foot down. She wrenched her head back, gasping for air, and frowned at him.

"Caspian," she scolded breathlessly. "I meant a taste of the cake!"

"You are too good to me," he panted, not looking the least bit guilty as he brushed a trail of kisses across her cheek and neck.

"Caspian," Susan admonished in a moan, even as she tilted her head back and closed her eyes. "Caspian!"

The king sat up instantly, withdrawing his hand from hers. "Forgive me, your Majesty," he murmured weakly. "I don't know what came over me."

"Neither do I," Susan said, though half-heartedly. "Caspian, you can't _do_ that. We aren't even courting, and I... I—"

"Forgive me," he apologized again. "You just... Seeing you makes me feel better."

"Stop trying to flatter me," Susan grumbled, not because it wasn't working, but because it was.

"But I can't," Caspian answered helplessly. "Queen Susan, I love you."

Susan stared at him, her eyes narrowing. Then she threw her hands up in the air, exasperated.

"Why do you do this to me?" she cried. "You use me and then make up some excuse that you never tell anyone else."

"It's not like that at all," Caspian insisted, hurt, his eyes widening in surprise.

"If you love me, why don't you prove it?" she wondered. "Are you afraid that the lords will disapprove?"

"No!"

"Then what? What are you so afraid of?"

"Myself," Caspian admitted, his voice low and tortured. His eyes burned with something that Susan couldn't explain and suddenly feared. He shook his head, looking distraught. "I am not good enough for you. I am a cruel man, rough and bitter and out of control. I couldn't stand it if I hurt you."

"Oh, Caspian." Susan sighed wearily. "If Aslan didn't think you were worthy of the crown, he wouldn't have given it to you."

"It doesn't matter," Caspian whispered fiercely, clenching his hands into fists and then spreading them on the desk in an effort to restrain himself. "I would give up the kingdom for you."

"Don't say things you don't mean, Caspian," Susan warned, fighting down tears at the unfairness of it all. Why did he have to bring _her_ into this?

"I _do_ mean it," he promised. "Please, Susan. I love you. What I have to do for you to believe me when I say that?"

"Ask Peter to court me," she supplied, looking desperate. "Caspian – I love you too. But if we want to make this work, we have to be prepared to make a lot of tough choices. And one of those is whether or not we want a long term relationship. I don't like playing games. If you really love me, you should be brave enough to prove it."

Caspian was silent for a long moment.

"All right," he said quietly. "I'll do it."

"Thank you. Oh, thank you, Caspian," Susan said, taking his hands and pecking him on the cheek. "Now, eat your cake and come down to Lucy's tea with me. It's going really well."

Caspian obliged and followed her down to the banquet hall, soothed by her chatter, and feeling, perhaps, like things were finally going to be all right.

* * *

Though the tea was still going swimmingly, Lucy's forced smiles could only last so long. It was true that she had been the one who had put the whole thing together, but things never would have come to fruition if not for Susan. Without her – the graceful, diplomatic queen who had a smile for all and could smooth over any situation with a single word – Lucy felt lost and utterly alone. She knew that she had little respect from the Telmarines, and even the Narnians were still not used to being ruled by a child (or anyone at all, frankly).

So, while everyone was enjoying themselves, she politely excused herself and scooted her chair out from the table. She had to find Susan and Caspian – they had promised that they would come. And neither of her brothers had showed up yet, either. She crossed the great banquet hall and was about to open the door when she heard voices coming from the other side. The man speaking sounded like Caspian, but at the same time, not at all like him. Though he had a Telmarine accent, his voice was much gruffer, and Lucy got a chill down her spine when she heard it. She didn't like it at all. She pressed her ear to the door to hear him better.

"This High King of theirs thinks he can come in and tell us what to do, does he?" the man was saying. "Well, we'll show him what we can do all on our own."

The talking continued, but she did not hear any of it. Her mind racing, it began to piece everything together. The disapproval of the men when they learned they had to work, their constant grumblings and refusing to get along with any of the Narnians, the way they had so easily agreed with Peter that they should help build the aqueduct. They were planning on getting revenge. And now.

A cold panic overcoming her, Lucy took a slow step back from the door. And because she did so, she did not hear the man beginning his count. She did not know that when he got to three, the man would burst through the door with a group of hundreds with him. She did not know that Bering, her favorite guard, had been killed when these men had stormed the castle, and that know one else knew of their presence. She did not know that they had a plan much more sinister than anyone could have ever imagined.

And she never would know this, because one step back had not been enough. When the men burst through the door, they trampled right over her, and before she knew what was happening, she knew nothing else but blackness.


	12. The Rebuttal

**The Scarlet Age**

A _Chronicles of Narnia_ Fanfiction

by hairsprayheart

Chapter Eleven: The Rebuttal

* * *

AN: I just want to take a quick moment to apologize for the delay in this update, and also to thank all of my readers. The response to the last chapter was overwhelming. So, thanks! Hope this chapter is also well received. I've been hard at work planning and I think this story is finally heading in the direction I want it to go!

* * *

When Lucy woke up, it was in searing pain. Her head hurt the worst, as far as she could make out, but her whole body seemed to be aching miserably. Gingerly, she felt her bruised skin, wincing as her fingers grazed the lump on the back of her head and gasping audibly when they came away sticky with dark blood.

She sat up slowly to take in her surroundings. She was in a dark, foul-smelling building filled with the rough outlines of other people and, she realized in horror, Narnians. It was utterly quiet, save for the occasional rustling of one of she shapes around her, and the silence was maddening. She strained to discern the identities of everyone else in the blackness. Everyone except for her was cruelly bound with rope - perhaps her captors had thought her too hurt to regain consciousness, she thought despairingly.

"Where are we?" she whispered to her nearest neighbor. The answer was a harsh "Shh!"

She glanced in the direction of the woman's fearful gaze to see an imposing figure – a Telmarine soldier, she supposed – pacing restlessly. Everything came flooding back to her in an instant, and her mind raced to come up with a plan.

There had to be some way to escape. From what she could tell, there was only one guard, and she remained free to move about. But no one else was, and an unsuccessful attempt would probably jeopardize any later, more well-planned ones. And while their chances likely wouldn't improve with time, the pacing man was coming nearer. Reluctantly, she nestled her unbound hands into the straw floor and prayed silently for an opportunity.

The pacing man came nearer and nearer. She sucked in a breath as he scrutinized her, flinching when a door was thrown open with a resounding slam and harsh light streamed in.

"You idiot!" the second man shouted at the pacing man, who was now standing at attention. "You told me he would be there."

Lucy, once again immersed in darkness as the door swung shut loudly, shrunk back against the straw, doing her best to conceal her hands. The new man was approaching, and it was painfully obvious that she was supposed to be bound like everyone else – but wasn't, by some gross oversight on the part of her captors. She could safely assume her freedom wasn't due to pity.

"He was supposed to be, sir," the pacing man replied meekly. "The tree-woman said that all the royals would be."

"Well, maybe she was lying," spat the second man. "There's only one way to find out."

Her mind racing, Lucy tried to make sense of the muttered words. Tree-woman? Surely they couldn't mean a Dryad… No Narnian would betray their own, not for anything. …Would they? As the man spoke, even in the darkness, Lucy could see the white flash of a cruel grin. She wished she hadn't.

Suddenly, the straw at her feet rustled when one of the men bent down. There was a shriek as the woman beside Lucy was hauled roughly to her feet.

"We know that none of the kings are here," the man boomed. "But are there any queens?"

There was the glint of a knife being held against the whimpering woman's throat. Lucy hesitated. She was being tested. All the other royals were most likely safe, but she didn't know that for sure. She couldn't risk giving them any information until she did.

"If there are, they wouldn't care about a Telmarine," he growled. "But we shall see if they give themselves up when one of their own is at stake!"

He shoved the woman to the ground at his feet, reaching across Lucy to pluck something from the straw. The creature passed directly in front of her face, and despite the poor visibility, she could recognize it with frightening clarity: the young Badger who had spoken up at the party. Seeing as she couldn't put her hand to her mouth to keep from gasping, she curled her hands until her fingernails bit into her palms. The Badger cried out almost inaudibly as the man lifted him by the scruff of his neck, and Lucy was tempted to do the same. A lantern was held up so everyone could see. The poor Animal was crying silently, tears sluicing clean paths down his bloodied and dirt-encrusted fur. And, Lucy realized in anguish, his magnificent claws had all been cruelly cut out of his poor toes, leaving him defenseless and in what was surely excruciating pain.

"Now will you reveal yourselves, your Majesties?" the man sneered, his cruel face leering dangerously close to Lucy's. His breath stank. She recoiled.

She considered her options. She was pretty far away from the lantern light, and it was dark enough that her skin could be mistaken for that of a young Telmarine woman. For once, she was glad of all the sunburns she had gotten and all the work she had done outside to tan her skin. She wished her hair was as dark as Susan's. She often found herself wishing she was more like Susan. But she knew that, at least in this situation, being gentle would get her nowhere. Aslan had named her valiant for a reason.

"Yes," she said, more loudly than she had intended, and not as coolly. Though she did not stand, she knew that she would be identified easily enough. "I am Queen Lucy, and I demand you release me and all of my people this instant."

"A queen?" The man scoffed. Sure enough, he had been able to spot her in the crowd of women and Narnians. Though his face was surprised, he still managed to look superior. _And quite ugly_, Lucy thought with a twisted and bitter satisfaction. "You are nothing more than a foolish girl! You, your beasts, and the traitorous women who were in your company must all be duly punished for your treachery."

"Our treachery?" Lucy repeated incredulously, bristling with righteous anger. "It is you, _sir,_ who commit treason not only against the peace laws of King Caspian the Tenth but defile the honor of the Four Sovereigns of Old with this vile mistreatment!"

The man laughed, but it was not a pleasant sound. It was dark and guttural and animal. Like him.

"I care nothing for the laws of nobles who do not care for me," he retorted. "There has not been peace in this land for over a thousand years."

"That is because of you!" Lucy screamed back.

"I am not responsible for the works of my ancestors."

Lucy trembled, enraged. Getting to her feet awkwardly, she drew herself up to her full height, feeling all the power of a lioness in her little body.

"Then how dare you hold these Narnians responsible for theirs? You want power? Fine! You have it! Look at these broken people! Are you _proud_ to rule the defenseless?"

The man slapped her right across the face. Her head snapped back and she felt herself fall to the straw distantly, as if watching it happen instead of experiencing it.

"What I want is something you cannot give me," the man said, leering over her as she lay on her back, dazed. "And by the time your precious siblings figure out what that is, you will be dead."

* * *

Susan gazed critically at herself in the little mirror, exhaling heavily. Caspian had kissed her thoroughly, judging by the way she looked. She splashed a little water on her face, hoping she hadn't been missed too terribly much at the tea. It was likely that she had been gone too long, since she had walked all the way up to her room to freshen up a bit, but there was no way she was going back to the tea with her dress wrinkled and hair mussed. It would raise questions. And questions were the last things she needed, now that things actually appeared to be going smoothly. It was almost too good to be true.

Carefully, she dabbed the water dripping off of her face away with a linen cloth folded over the sink. Why was she having so much trouble believing in things these days? At first, she hadn't believed Lucy when they had come into Narnia in the first place, and then she hadn't believed that Aslan was there when they returned. Now, she didn't believe that Caspian's intentions were all honorable.

Certainly, she believed that he cared for her – that, she could see in his eyes. But she didn't like the hunger that she also saw there. She supposed that part of it simply owed to him being a young man, one that almost was fully a man. That didn't excuse his actions, though. She had come to realize that she loved him, and wanted some sort of proof. Was that too much to ask?

Ugh. Why was she over-thinking this? It should have been simple: two people, that fancied each other, wanting to take things a step further by making it official. But it seemed as though one of those people didn't want to just yet. Caspian was balking away from asking Peter to court her – and though it had only been a day since she had really _wanted_ him to, she had rather expected him to do it right away, given the way he had kissed her (not once but twice).

On the other hand, it was important, wasn't it? After all, he had kissed her. Twice! People simply didn't _do_ that unless they were courting. And they hadn't exactly been chaste kisses, either of them. It wasn't right. What would her mother think? Oh, heavens.

Was she ready for this? Someone so conflicted as she was shouldn't be taking such big steps!

Exasperated with her own ceaseless inward arguments, she blew out a long breath and slumped against the wall on the opposite side of the room, not liking what she saw in the mirror anymore. She supposed she might have been beautiful, as everyone said, but for her current purposes, she thought she looked too young and vulnerable to do much of anything. No. She wasn't ready. Peter was right – she was just a child.

But she was also a queen. She was a queen first, before she was Caspian's little _play-thing_. The thought made her frown. Practicing her most cheerful smile, she threw her shoulders back and left her room. She was a queen first, and her people were waiting for her.

She made her way through the castle with more haste than she usually did, knowing that she was terribly late and that Lucy would be wondering where she was. Whether or not Caspian joined her, she decided with a smug smile, made no difference to her. Now, she would enjoy her tea with her sister and her subjects. She would talk about frivolous things like dresses and not worry about more serious matters.

After what seemed like a long time, she was down at the entrance of the parlor. The doors were both open – strange. Perhaps Lucy had wanted more ventilation; it was summer time and quite hot, even in the old stone castle. Humming quietly to herself, she went in, only to find the long table empty. The place settings were scattered, plates full of food cracked and strewn across the floor. She stopped abruptly, taking in a sharp breath. There was… that – that was a body. A _body_.

Her head reeling, she fell to her knees. She began hyperventilating, her breath coming in rapid, ragged gasps. Her chest began to heave in the beautiful dress she had only moments ago changed into, the blood pooled on the floor staining it instantly.

She wanted to call for help, but the word would not come. Just before she fainted onto the body of Bering the guard, one name escaped her lips in a shrill scream: "_Caspian_!"

* * *

Pressing two fingers into the dirt, Peter smiled in satisfaction. The soil was firm but pliable, perfect for inserting and then upholding beams of wood that would eventually form aqueducts to carry water to the rest of Narnia. He got to his feet, brushing the dirt from his trousers and giving his horse a pat. Now that he had surveyed the land and mapped out where they could begin construction of the aqueduct, it would be ready when Caspian and all of his men arrived the next day.

He led his horse onward through the forest, in the general direction of the creek that would soon serve as their reservoir. It was warm out, he realized as he mopped his brow with his sleeve, and his horse would probably want something to drink. Perhaps it hadn't been the best idea to start construction during the middle of summer, but they'd really had no choice. Now, water was needed more than ever.

Licking his dry lips so he could wet them enough to click his tongue to the horse, Peter tried to remember a time when he hadn't felt thirsty. He was suddenly grateful that his brother – as much of a pain as he was often-times – had made him pack extra rations. There hadn't been much water to spare, but he appreciated every drop he could get. With all the sweating he was doing, he couldn't afford to lose much more, and he felt as though he was getting more exhausted with every step he took. He wondered briefly, madly, what it would be like to die of heat stroke. It was a silly thought, one that fled in and out of his mind unbidden. But out, alone, on a day like today, even in the forest under a canopy of trees that was supposed to provide shade, it was something to push him on – he didn't want to die, and having something to fight always gave him strength. No matter how ridiculous the enemy was. (Realistically, he'd only gone about half an hour without water, and he'd been through a lot worse. He wasn't usually so melodramatic, but it was something to entertain himself, anyway.)

"What do you think, girl?" he asked his horse, feeling silly for doing it but not really minding being silly. "Would you like some water?"

He laughed when the horse bobbed its head, even though in all likelihood it was just trying to escape the bite of a fly.

"I would too," he confided in the beast, in a low whisper, as he grinned impishly.

When he next took a step, there was a strange squishing sound that alerted Peter to the presence of the pond nearby. He felt his heart leap at the prospect of a drink, but when he scanned the ground for the source of the water – so he could follow it to the pond itself – he sagged a little. Little red corpses lined the trickle of muddy water, curled up like the question marks to end inquiries he was too upset to ask out loud.

The horse whickered, in what nearly sounded like disappointment, though he expected it was his imagination or something of the sort. Peter sighed. "That's right. We're going home."

They didn't have a choice. The men had to be told sometime that what seemed to be their only remaining water source was now also filled with toxins. And the sooner they found out, the sooner they could begin scouting out other locations. What he simply didn't understand was how a body of water, separated from the Great River by miles and soil, could be polluted by the same turn. Something wasn't right here, and he wanted to know what it was.

* * *

Caspian's heart was racing as he knocked on the door to Peter's study. He had imagined this in his head so many times, both the best case scenario and the worst. But of all the little day-dreams he'd had, none of them involved Peter simply not answering his door.

He huffed out a breath, discouraged. Was he simply being ignored? Or was Peter out at the moment?

Edmund walked up behind him, his head down as he walked quickly through the hallway. Caspian turned on his heel and caught him by the arm, sure that his eyes were probably wild with fright but wanting too much to know where Peter was to care.

"King Edmund," he greeted him formally, perhaps too late, for Edmund was already giving him a strange look. "May I ask where your royal brother is?"

"He's not here," Edmund answered flatly. "Out."

Caspian forced a smile, his patience feeling like it was wearing thin. "I can see that. Might you know where he is?"

Edmund just shrugged.

"Probably half-way across Narnia by now. He's scouting the area for your aqueduct." He hesitated. "But… don't tell the girls, all right? I was hoping they wouldn't find out."

With as much solemnity as he could muster, Caspian nodded. "I see. Of course, your Majesty. But I really need to see him as soon as possible. I have a question to ask him. An important one."

The younger king's face, which seemed to ever have a bored expression on it, went almost instantly from sleepy to suspicious. "Oh? Oh." He glanced at Caspian quickly, as if to make sure that he was being serious. "Well, I'm sorry I can't help you."

A little bit miserably, Caspian nodded. He had finally gotten his courage up, and all for naught. He couldn't ask Edmund for Susan's hand – it just wouldn't feel right, and tradition dictated that the eldest family member was to be entreated. Bloody tradition. At the least, he supposed he could work a while longer on what he was going to say, if he could muster up his courage once more.

"I suppose you'll be off tomorrow, as well," Edmund said, and while his tone sounded guarded, it went up at the end slightly, as if it were a question. "That's why you're in a hurry, eh?"

"No, nothing like that," Caspian insisted hastily. He wouldn't want Edmund to think badly of him, or even worse, of Susan. What he decided, wisely, not to say was that the reason he was "hurrying" was because Susan was pressing him to do it. It wasn't as though he were never going to ask Peter to court her, he just wanted to take things slowly. There were so many other things that he had to get used to at the moment, and it was too much all at once for him to take in. But he could never say no to her, so here he was. "But I will, indeed, be leaving." _Unfortunately_, he silently tacked on.

Edmund toed the thick carpeting. "Well," he began slowly, "maybe I could ride out to find Peter. With you," he amended. "The girls will be fine on their own, I should think."

A slight smile spreading slowly over his face, Caspian looked sideways at the younger king. He liked the way he thought. "…Or maybe you could go meet your brother on your own and I could protect them," he offered.

"He wouldn't like them to be alone," Edmund agreed, the corners of his own mouth twitching upwards.

"Too true, friend," Caspian said, clapping the boy on the back. "Would you care to accompany me out to the stable to ready your horse?"

"I would," Edmund grinned.

Ah, the perfect solution. Edmund got to be with his brother and watch him, like he wanted, while Caspian got to stay here with the castle all to himself – and Susan, besides. It was an excellent plan. Of course, Peter wouldn't like it, but by the time he found out, construction would have already begun and it would probably be too late to change things.

They walked in companionable silence down the corridor, in the direction of the stables. Nothing needed to be said. Even though they had not always been fast friends, there was something that they shared, being an outcast and finding their way back in to the circle of love that seemed to encompass the rest of Narnia. He knew that he had upset the brothers, by his first hint of relationship with Susan, but Edmund had not been as open about it, which both reassured and intimidated him simultaneously. It was hard to ever know what the younger king was thinking – Caspian feared and loved it about him. But for now, at least, they seemed to be thinking the same thing: _I want things to be right. I am going to try to make things right. I will do whatever it takes in order to make things right._

Not having walked very far, they passed by the beginning of the corridor leading to the great hall, and Caspian remembered suddenly that he was supposed to have met Susan there for Lucy's tea. His cheeks flushing with embarrassment, he was about to ask Edmund if they could stop there for a moment when there was a shrill cry. The two kings looked at each other, each drawing their swords with a resounding clang before running off in the direction of the shriek.

_She called my name_, Caspian thought dumbly, the last rational thought he had before everything went out of control.

Susan was laying on the ground, facedown, with blood all around her. The very sight of it made his stomach churn, and his whole face burned as the blood felt as though it were draining away from it. He stood there, still as a statue, while Edmund knelt to look at his sister, his face even more pale and drawn than usual as he probed his sister with a cool professionalism that Caspian had seen one too many times in battle before an enemy was killed. Everyone had a kingly face, and Edmund was wearing his now. It was the sort of thing that made you want to get out of the way or get on his side.

The questions ran through his mind: what happened? Where was everyone? Was Susan dead (oh Aslan please don't let her be dead!)?

"She's alive," Edmund breathed, sounding as though he were speaking through gritted teeth even though he was obviously relieved.

He didn't have to say anything else. It was enough for Caspian, at that moment, but then Edmund just held up something, a small scrap of paper. The words were scribbled – chicken-scratch – but Caspian could make them out. His voice was thick as he read aloud: "We have what you want. You are not our kings. Give us your crowns or we take hers, and her head with it."

Edmund took in a ragged breath, looking up at Caspian with tears in his eyes, something Caspian had never seen before and felt unnerved by. If Susan was here, that meant…

"They've got Lu," he whispered.


End file.
